


Masquerade

by SecretlyACatLady



Series: Masks [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor panic attack, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Self-Hatred, Team Feels, he is a Mess, implied mental health issues, one brief mention of vomit, some self-destructive behavior, the hero's name is Eleven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-07-08 03:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyACatLady/pseuds/SecretlyACatLady
Summary: SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE ACTS!!!-These people were like mirrors – once fractured and broken but now born anew. However, Eleven was used to the fractures, to the people who carried the burden of failure.But those people were gone, lost to the rivers of time, and now Eleven felt like he was walking among strangers.(Yes, it's another one of those Act 3 fics)-Sequel to Facade. While it's probably not an absolute necessity to read the first part, there are several things that happened in the first part that are referenced in this fic.





	1. Chapter 1

When Eleven found himself standing in front of the entrance of Arboria, the Sword of Darkness strapped to his back, he thought this would be easy.  
  
It's just a matter of two months, he thought, relief sagging his shoulders as he climbed the stairs leading up to the central square of Arboria. He could easily sacrifice two months for countless lives.  
  
And then he stepped inside the Church and realized just what he had done.

-

-

-

The journey to the Heart of Yggdrasil was painful.  
  
Not in a physical sense – no, the monsters traversing the forest were weak, so incredibly weak that Eleven found himself holding back from completely decimating them in one strike. However, watching his friends struggle with the same, incredibly weak monsters was like a slap in the face, a constant reminder of this new-old world he had stumbled into.  
  
The time outside the battles wasn't any less painful.  
  
Eleven hadn't realized it before but here, among the greenery and flowers, it was almost absurd to see how optimistic, upbeat, _innocent_ they all had been before Yggdrasil fell.  
  
It seemed like a cruel joke, seeing his friends interact with one another, Eleven thought as he watched Rab chat with Serena. In his mind, Eleven recalled short-haired Serena casting her sister's magic with a fierce glint in her eyes that hadn't been there before – wasn't here anymore. He remembered Sylvando who, despite his seemingly never-ending fountain of optimism, would occasionally drop his smile and cheerful attitude when he thought no one was looking and tried to picture the Sylvando in front of him doing the same with no success.  
  
Then there were the others. Eleven recalled how Rab had often looked at the burning debris with distant eyes and undoubtedly thought of Dundrasil. Jade, whose road to the reunion with her father was painted with the blood of Mordegon's victims. Erik who had been redeemed but still had carried the guilt of his sister's actions. Hendrik who was currently chasing after them.  
  
Veronica.  
  
Eleven's hands curled into fists. These people were like mirrors – once fractured and broken but now born anew. However, Eleven was used to the fractures, to the people who carried the burden of failure.  
  
But those people were gone, lost to the rivers of time, and now Eleven felt like he was walking among strangers.

-

-

-

When Jasper fell, it had taken all of Eleven's willpower not to shout _No_. It wasn't like he particularly cared for the man – Jasper destroyed his hometown with the desire to kill everyone; he hurt Erik and used him as a lure and he was the major reason why it took so many months for Eleven to heal in Nautica after the Fall of Yggdrasil.  
  
However, Eleven cared for his friends. And at some point, Hendrik had cared for Jasper -- had called him his friend, his brother-in-arms and now those years of friendship were threatening to stifle his spirit and crush his body.  
  
In another world, Hendrik had been given closure – a reason for his oldest friend's actions and even a bittersweet goodbye – but Eleven had destroyed that world, that chance for closure and now all he could do was watch as Hendrik witnessed Jasper's body fade away.  
  
Eleven's eyes flickered towards Mordegon. Their eyes made contact and perhaps if Eleven hadn't lived through the end of the world, he would have shied away from that stern gaze – but now he merely kept looking straight into the eyes of Mordegon's puppet with a neutral expression.  
  
_'We killed you once before,'_ Eleven thought beneath his mask of indifference. _'I delivered the blow that ended your life. And I'll do it again.'_  
  
Mordegon was the first one to look away.

-

-

-

After they returned to Heliodor, the rest of the day passed in a blur.  
  
The walk from the main gates to the castle was overwhelming. Seeing the kingdom at peace – with grand buildings, smiling masses and bountiful food stalls – reminded Eleven that this was why he had decided to go back in time.  
  
(He recalled the dread that had clawed his throat every time they visited towns after the Fall. When Yggdrasil withered and plummeted to the ground, so did most human lives and many cities had been reduced to dim remains of their past glory. Most of those who had survived had been starving, slowly but surely, as the food supplies were diminishing with each day and going outside of the city walls had been certain death to many.  
  
Some of the smaller villages had been but mere graveyards. And the roads between each town were littered with the rotting remains of half-devoured corpses.)  
  
There was a twisted sense of curiosity welling inside Eleven's stomach as he wondered what would happen next, now that he had managed to change the course of time. The banquet at the Heliodor castle was obliviously a trap -- a ploy to lure him and the Sword of Light within Mordegon's grasp.  
  
_I will play this game, for now_ , Eleven mused to himself as he and the others arrived at the castle. _Just to see what you will do, Mordegon._

-

-

-

Seeing the people of Cobblestone was both a great relief and cause of extreme agitation. They weren't safe here, in the castle with Mordegon, where that bastard could easily take them as hostages. The part of Eleven's mind that had been seized with paranoia ever since he broke the Time's Sphere couldn't help but wonder if Mordegon knew that he knew – that he was either putting up a display to show Eleven just what was at stake here or he was trying to distract Eleven.  
  
Eventually, both of those theories proved to be false. The relief Eleven felt when Mordegon revealed himself had rattled his very core but that relief soon changed into anxiety when Mordegon attacked them; while he didn't possess the Sword of Darkness, he was still a skilled sorcerer and Eleven's friends were still so, so weak.  
  
The battle was long and difficult. The previous Mordegon had been drunk on power, on the strength the Sword of Darkness had given him and that had been his downfall. This Mordegon was different; while he lacked the sword and raw power, he more than made up for it with his foul tricks and mastery of magic.  
  
However, despite his cunning mind and powerful magic, this Mordegon was still much weaker and eventually, he started showing signs of fatigue.  
  
This was it, Eleven realized as he positioned his body to deliver a devastating _Sword Dance_ attack.  
  
Mordegon, too focused on dodging Jade's lance, never noticed the attack before it was too late.  
  
_For Dundrasil_ , Eleven thought, delivering the first strike.  
  
Mordegon screamed, eyes moving to Eleven just as he moved his greatsword upward. _For King Carnelian and Jade._  
  
Mordegon made an aborted attempt to lunge forward, a hasty move Eleven avoided with ease before stabbing the sorcerer's shoulder with the smaller blade made of light. _For Yggdrasil and all Her children who died by your hand._  
  
Mordegon stumbled, gasping with pain. The small blade stuck in his shoulder disappeared – as it always did before the final slash. Eleven raised his greatsword above his head. Their eyes, one pair full of pain and the other emotionless, met.  
  
“For Veronica,” Eleven whispered as he brought his sword down.

-

-

-

In the end, Mordegon's death felt oddly simple. Quiet. Nothing like the Fortress of Fear with its dreary interior and savage monsters. Eleven remembered the journey to the Palace of Malice, the fight with Jasper and the final battle with Mordegon inside the bleak throne room – then the victory and escaping the crumbling fortress on top of Cetacea. He recalled watching Yggdrasil's rise, the bittersweet happiness he had felt and the feel of Erik's lips against his mouth.  
  
Compared to all that, this victory was but a silent echo – but a victory nevertheless.  
  
It was in the middle of the night when reality hit him. Mordegon was no more – he was dead and Erdrea was thriving. Eleven's friends were all alive, sleeping soundly in their guest rooms.  
  
He had succeeded. He could move on and _heal_.  
  
A small, hopeful smile blossomed on Eleven's face as he closed his eyes.  
  
He should have known better.  
  
After everything he had experienced, he should have known what shadows the light of the Luminary could bring.

-

-

-

When Erdwin's Lantern crashed to the ground, so did Eleven's hopes and dreams of a better future.  
  
Ice roared in his veins like a raging maelstrom, drowning out all other surrounding noises as Eleven stood on the balcony, body paralyzed and eyes unable to tear themselves away from the mass that rose above the Gallopolis area.  
  
Eleven barely registered it when his body turned around and fled from the balcony, barely heard the others' voices behind him. All he knew was that he needed to get away from the prying eyes of his friends who had already sensed that something was not right with him.  
  
Fortunately, the corridors were empty and so, no one witnessed the Luminary running away from the balcony like a coward.  
  
Suddenly, all energy seemed to drain from Eleven's body. He stopped and leaned against the cool stone wall, throwing one arm over his face.  
  
And suddenly, Erik was there.  
  
As soon as their eyes met, the frown marring Erik's handsome face deepened considerably. He opened his mouth, most likely to ask what was wrong but Eleven's traitorous mouth was faster.  
  
“Was it a mistake?”  
  
Eleven hardly recognized his voice.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Erik's voice was gentle. Soothing. He placed his hand on Eleven's shoulder, a gesture meant to comfort him but all it did was make his skin burn.  
  
Eleven flinched. The small part of him that wasn't falling apart was yelling, telling him to stop talking before he failed the one last thing he wasn't supposed to.  
  
To Eleven horror, a quiet sob escaped from his mouth.  
  
Unfortunately, Erik heard him. “H-Hey, what's wrong?” the thief asked, panic bleeding into his concern.  
  
By Yggdrasil, what wasn't wrong – what he hadn't broken and destroyed? It hasn't been even three whole days and now Erdwin's Lantern had plunged to the ground and given birth to something else.  
  
Had he sacrificed everything for a worse future?  
  
Numbness seized Eleven's body. The last whispers of any surrounding noises faded away and suddenly, the world seemed too bright, too colorful. He squeezed his eyes shut but his traitorous mind kept showing him the sight Erdwin's Lantern falling.  
  
“Have I doomed us all?”  
  
Only when the words echoed in the empty corridor did Eleven realize that he had spoken aloud. A silence fell over the corridor, somehow louder than any possible noise.  
  
Erik was the first one to break the silence. “No.”  
  
Eleven bit down the laughter that was threatening to escape from his mouth. Erik sounded so determined but he didn't know, wasn't aware just how much a failure he was-  
  
“I...” Erik continued. “I'm not exactly sure if I understand what you're saying but... Eleven, this isn't your fault.”  
  
Eleven's eyes flew to Erik. The thief looked hesitant like he was weighing every word he spoke. “It's true we don't know what the hell happened out there in the Celestial Sands, but we will find out.” Suddenly, Erik snorted, “I mean, it can't be harder than finding those six bloody Orbs scattered across the whole damn world, right?”  
  
This time, Eleven did laugh. Oh, how he longed for those days when the world was still full of mystery and beauty and his biggest worries were the Orbs and hoping that finding them wouldn't be as troublesome as finding that blasted Rainbough.  
  
Some of the tension on Erik's shoulders faded away. He straightened his back and lifted his chin before giving Eleven a cocky grin. “We have already saved Erdrea from evil and darkness once, I know we can do it a second time.”  
  
Eleven breathed in and out, his mind clinging to Erik's unwavering confidence like a parasite. Some strands of hair had fallen over Erik's eyes, preventing Eleven from seeing them fully.  
  
His fingers twitched.  
  
He gave in to the temptation.  
  
Slowly, Eleven raised his hand, gently tucked the rebelling strands behind Erik's ear and let himself believe in Erik's belief in him. Erik had been there when Yggdrasil fell, had suffered amnesia and gods know what during the months after the Fall. He had been there when they found the lingering spirit of Veronica. He had been by Eleven's side when they traveled the roads bordered by the remains of those who had died outside towns during the Fall. He had seen it all and more and yet, despite all that, he still loved Eleven.  
  
Erik moved his head slightly, earrings swaying with the movement. A glimmer of gold was all it took to bring Eleven back to reality – because the Erik that had been there during those dark, desperate months had worn silver earrings, the ones Eleven made just for him. That Erik had been there during all that and still had believed in the Luminary.  
  
This Erik didn't know anything.  
  
This Erik's belief meant nothing.  
  
Eleven pulled his hand back quickly. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” the words falling out of his mouth barely registered in Eleven's mind. Something dark and poisonous was forming in his stomach, devouring him from inside out and filling the festering wounds with poison.  
  
He needed to get out; run before his last remaining threads of restraint broke. Eleven closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths and hating himself when his breath hitched several times. He had never liked losing control over his emotions; it made him feel too vulnerable, too open and the world after the Fall, when Erdrea had needed him to be strong, had only reinforced that feeling.  
  
And once again, he would have to be strong – not for himself, it seemed like never for himself – but for others. For Erdrea and the faceless masses of people who had just witnessed a beloved star fall from the sky out of nowhere. The people were scared, unsure and in a desperate need for someone tough.  
  
They needed the Luminary.  
  
Eleven opened his eyes.  
  
There was a tense set in Erik's jaw, like he didn't quite like what he was seeing, an expression that became more evident when Eleven asked, “Could you please tell the others that I'm not feeling well? I... I need a moment alone.”  
  
Erik looked like he was going to argue but before he could answer, Eleven added, “I'll be fine after that, I promise.”  
  
Judging by Erik's demeanor, it was easy to see that he didn't believe that – and why should he, when Eleven was a trembling mess about to completely fall apart.  
  
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity to Eleven, Erik spoke. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly.  
  
Eleven's shoulders sagged with relief. He lurched forward, like a marionette cut free from its strings. “Thank you,” he managed to utter out.  
  
However, Eleven's feet refused to move immediately. He threw one last glance at Erik, rememorizing the familiar lines and curves he had once known better than his own. Erik stared back at him, confusion and a slight hint of embarrassment evident in his expression.  
  
Eventually, Eleven turned his back on Erik and walked away. His steps were heavy, steadfast and gave nothing away about his inner turmoil. The castle corridors were barren – everyone was probably outside, witnessing the birth of something with the same twisted curiosity one would feel when poking a bruise.  
  
Eleven arrived at the guest bedroom he had occupied the previous night. He opened the door, stepped inside and closed it.  
  
The wail that broke free from Eleven's throat hurt his ears. He spun around and punched the stone wall. The collision set his knuckles aflame but the pain was a welcomed distraction, a way to feel something aside from the unbearable numbness.  
  
The Fall of Erdwin's Lantern had crushed his hope for a better, truly peaceful future.  
  
But seeing the light reflect from Erik's golden earrings broke Eleven's heart, for that was the moment when he realized just how utterly alone he was.

-

-

-

When Eleven emerged from the guest bedroom exactly thirty minutes later, his eyes were dry and expression serious. He walked to the throne room with steady steps, going neither too fast or too slow. His posture was straight and perhaps a tad too stiff to be natural but that seemed fitting for a calm young man like him. There was not a hair out of place, nor were there any visible injuries he might have sustained during the fight with Mordegon.  
  
He was just like a Luminary should be.

-

-

-

That night, in the campsite near Heliodor, Eleven had a nightmare.  
  
He dreamed of the nun he, Rab and Hendrik had met on the shores of Costa Valor; a young, spirited woman with a kind smile.  
  
However, unlike most nuns with their pristine clean clothes, that nun wore a robe dirtied by mud and blood. Whereas the other nuns were often found near churches, doing ceremonies or everyday chores, that nun stood among dead bodies holding a rusty shovel.  
  
When Hendrik had insisted on accompanying her to the nearest town, she had merely shaken her head. “As a servant to Yggdrasil, it's my duty to offer what little peace I can,” she had said, gesturing to the neat row of bodies by her feet.  
  
They had left her there, digging holes for the deceased. When they had returned to the spot with the rest of their group intact, only the modest gravestones remained as a proof of the meeting.  
  
And in his nightmare, Eleven once again stood on the shore of Costa Valor, unable to move his feet, unable to tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. The sight of the nun digging shallow graves, humming an old lullaby as the corpses of Eleven's friends and family lied neatly in a row by the shore.


	2. Chapter 2

It took few days for Eleven to feel more like himself.  
  
It was still painful, existing in this foreign yet familiar land, but the wounds in his core were no longer festering and raw. The dark star was a harrowing sight but Eleven took comfort in the fact that its birth hadn't destroyed Erdrea in the blink of an eye – unlike Mordegon had done.  
  
Maybe all was not lost. Maybe he could fix this.  
  
Eleven desperately clung to that fact like it was the only thing keeping him together – and perhaps it was. However, if that belief was the tape that kept him from breaking, his friends and their newest quest soothed the cracks in his core. Their hunt for the Seedlings was a clear goal, a purpose and they didn't have to wander in the dark blindly. It also helped that the others were now stronger and more skilled.  
  
However, when they were searching for the second Seedling, Eleven felt the familiar tension crawling up his spine. The Watchers had given enough clues to help them have a general idea on where the seedlings were and now they were just leaping from a point to point with no need for distractions.  
  
And that was what concerned Eleven, who could still recall the sight of Mia and the look of fear frozen on her golden face. He could still hear the echoes of his birth father's silent suffering underneath the ruins of Dundrasil. To suddenly ask the others to go to those places would be suspicious.  
  
So, he stayed quiet and let the others do the talking, occasionally finding himself staring at the horizon with vacant eyes.

-

-

-

Eleven placed the Wheel of Time into the keyhole.  
  
His hands were shaking.  
  
Hatred simmered under his skin, brightly burning and itchy. He hated the Wheel of Time for being the key into the Tower of Lost Time. He hated Tower of Lost Time for retaining the Time's Sphere. He hated the Time's Sphere for existing. He hated the Timekeeper for offering him the chance to travel back in time. He hated Serenica for coming here and becoming the Timekeeper.  
  
He hated himself for knowing that he would have done the same thing if he had been in Serenica's shoes.  
  
The door opened. Behind Eleven, he heard the others gasp. After all, the Tower of Lost Time was a sight to behold, both outside and inside.   
  
“Well, this looks interesting!” Veronica exclaimed as she walked inside. The rest of their group followed her, looking around curiously like a group of tourists in Puerto Valor.  
  
Eleven looked at their backs, hatred fading into numbness.   
  
He was tired.  
  
He was so, so tired.

-

-

-

It felt odd to be camping in the Heliodor region without worrying about soldiers, Eleven mused to himself as he stirred the pot of stew bubbling on top of the campfire. Behind him, Veronica and Erik bickered loudly as they set up the tents while Serena was trying, and failing, to be a mediator between them. Across the campfire, Rab was repairing a hole in his sock with well-versed fingers and the rest of their group were doing rounds around the campsite.

“I could have tied that rope myself, you dolt!” Veronica's voice echoed through the camp.

“How?!” Erik asked, voice incredulous, “I had to get up on my toes to do that; those little sticks you call legs have no chance of – argh!”

“Veronica!” Serena gasped. Eleven could hear the sound of something, most likely Erik, fall onto the ground. “You can't swing your staff like that.”

“He started it,” Veronica exclaimed as Erik groaned loudly.

The corner of Eleven's mouth twitched upwards. Across the campfire, Rab snorted quietly, “They're a lively bunch.”

A huff of laughter escaped from Eleven's mouth as he nodded.

The sound of rustling bushes caught Eleven's attention. His shoulders tensed, his grip on the wooden spoon tightened and his gaze flickered to the greatsword that laid beside him. Was it a monster, a group of bandits, or something else, something bigger, more dangerous-

The familiar sound of Jade's laughter reached Eleven's ears. He swallowed and forced his shoulders to relax, quickly glancing at Rab but the older man was still looking at the bickering trio with fond eyes. Good, he hadn't seen that.

“The area is secured,” Hendrik declared as he, Jade and Sylvando arrived at the campsite. “While the monsters in this region are more aggressive than before, they are still weak compared to us-”

“My goodness, what is that lovely scent?” Sylvando gasped suddenly, approaching Eleven and ignoring Hendrik's sigh. “Honey, what on earth have you done to this stew – it smells delicious!”

“It should be done now,” Eleven said with a small smile, the tips of his ears reddening under Sylvando's compliments.

“Did everyone hear that?” Sylvando asked loudly, “Dinner's ready!”

It didn't take long for the others to gather around the campfire. Loud chatter filled the air as everybody loaded their wooden bowls with stew. Eleven ate his fill slowly, savoring every piece in silence – it's been just little over a week since he broke the Time's Sphere and eating fresh vegetable and meat was still somewhat of a luxury.

“Oh my,” Jade said, surprise coloring her voice, “This is quite tasty.”

Erik swallowed a spoonful of stew. “A bit spicier than what I'm used to but... yeah, it's not bad.”

“Your opinion doesn't matter.” Veronica rolled her eyes, “You think _salt_ is a fancy spice.”

“What did you put in it?” Jade asked before Erik could retort.

Eleven placed his bowl on his lap. After spending months in a constant state of hunger, his stomach still couldn't tolerate large portions of food. “Just some buzzberry juice and few drops of finessence.”

That caught everyone's attention. They turned to look at him, surprise evident on their faces. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle,” Rab said, bushy eyebrows raised. “I dinnae think I have ever heard people using finessence as an ingredient.”

“Where did you learn that?” Serena leaned forward, her bowl tightly clasped between her hands.

“I overheard that in the Heliodor downtown,” Eleven lied with a steady voice. In the World of Ruin, food had been scarce – the ground had been barren, animals sickly and weak, and the seas had been mostly empty. As time had passed, towns struggled to feed the few survivors. During the last few months, their group, unwilling to get food from the starving towns, had scoured the infertile lands for any edible nourishment. Sometimes they had been lucky and found ingredients they wouldn't have thought to use before.

Sometimes, they had either found nothing, or the food they had cooked turned out to be either rotten or even poisonous.

It didn't take long before the pot was empty, save for the few drops at the very bottom. The fire crackled cheerfully, offering warmth against the crisp air, and the bowls had been put into a washing basin. The moon hung in the cloudless sky like a pale pearl, surrounded by countless bright stars.

Serena yawned, stretching her arms. Eleven's own eyes were drooping and he desperately wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

However, they still had matters to discuss.

“What should be our next destination?” Jade asked.

“The appearance of Calamos had undoubtedly affected all of Erdrea,” Hendrik stated solemnly. “The fall of Erdwin's Lantern and the growing monster population must have lowered the morale in every corner of the world.”

Serena clasped her hands together and bit her lip worriedly, “They must so scared...”

“Remember that we also need to get stronger,” Erik pointed out, raising his gaze from the dagger he had started cleaning earlier. “None of that matters if we can't beat Calasmos.”

A silence fell over the group as everyone stared in the distance with pensive eyes. Eleven kept his gaze fixated on the fire, shoulders tense and unwilling to say anything. He was going to let the others decide -- that way he didn't need to feel guilty for deciding which matter was the most important.

It as Rab who broke the silence. “May I suggest The Royal Library?”

In the corner of his eyes, Eleven saw Erik's hands freezing for a brief moment.

“The Royal Library has been standing even before the Age of Heroes.” Rab stroke his mustache with a contemplative look. “I reckon we should have a wee glance at the place?”

“Didn't that one monk from Angri-La say that there should be some books written by Mordecant in the library?” Jade asked, arms and legs crossed. “Those could also prove to be quite valuable.”

“Oh, we should stop by Sniflheim!” Serena exclaimed. “It would be lovely to see Krystalinda and Queen Frysabel again!”

Agreeable chatter filled the campsite. Everyone, save for Eleven and Erik, seemed excited and ready to pack their bags. It would have been a lie to say that Eleven couldn't feel relief settling in his stomach. This was a good first step, he thought.

“I think...” Eleven started carefully, subtly glancing at Erik. The others immediately ceased their chatter and turned to look at him. “Well, the Vikings have been around for a long time, right? Perhaps they have heard some stories during their travels.”

“Good thinking, darling!” Sylvando exclaimed as the others muttered similar sentiments.

Erik gripped his dagger so tightly his knuckles turned white.

-

-

-

  
  


_In a time that happened both in the past and future, Eleven was circled by his friends. Rays of light filtered through the grand windows, casting odd shadows around them. Eleven couldn't meet anyone's eyes and instead, he kept his gaze transfixed on the Timekeeper, who stood by the Time's Sphere little farther away. Soon, he would have to break the Time's Sphere and travel back in time._

_But first, he had some assurances to make. Inhaling deeply, Eleven turned to look at Jade. He couldn't bear to look at the unshed tears in her eyes and instead, he studied the scar on her cheek._

“ _I will help your father,” he promised to her._

_Eleven turned his attention to Rab. “I promise to defeat Mordegon,” he said to him._

“ _I swear I'll stop Heliodor from falling,” Eleven vowed to Hendrik._

“ _I'll make sure that every smile on Erdrea is safe,” he declared to Sylvando._

“ _I will bring Veronica back,” he assured Serena._

_Finally, Eleven turned to look at Erik with a pledge to help Mia already on his tongue that died as soon as his gaze fell upon Erik's face. Beside him, Eleven heard Rab mumble something about privacy, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps._

_Neither of them spoke. In the distance, the never-ending sound of clock continued to echo in the tower, sounding like mockery to Eleven's ears._

“ _You make me happy,” Erik said suddenly, a pink flush coloring his cheeks as soon as the words left his mouth. “You have made me happy for a while now – ever since, well, since Jasper used me as a hostage. So, depending on where you end up in... I hope that you will... uh, make me happy again.” Erik glared at the floor as he added, “Because I sure as hell won't do the first move.”_

_A chuckle escaped from Eleven's mouth. A strand of blue hair had fallen over Erik's eyes and Eleven reached his hand to tuck it behind the thief's ear before leaning in for a quick, chaste kiss. “I love you too,” he murmured as Erik buried his head into Eleven's shoulder, “I want to make you happy again.”_

_Erik's breath hitched quietly and Eleven was certain the sound would forever be etched into his heart. “If possible, I'll rescue Mia as quickly as I can.”_

“... _Thank you,” Erik whispered before taking a step back and raising his head. His eyes were clear and determined but his clenched hands betrayed his true feelings. The rest of their groups gathered around Erik and Sylvando squeezed the thief's shoulder comfortingly._

_Eleven gave them a long stare, trying to engrave the sight of his friends into his memory._

_Eventually, he approached the Timekeeper, the Sword of Light in his hand and a broken heart in his chest._

-

-

-

  
  


The Sword of Light still in his grasp, Eleven watched Erik and Mia squabble with a small smile on his face. In another time, the bond between the siblings had a small but noticeable scar, born from the guilt they both carried – Mia had terrorized Sniflheim and hurt her precious brother, and Erik had lived with the knowledge that for a brief moment, he seriously considered killing his baby sister. Eleven was certain that that scar would have disappeared with time and love but it was still nice, seeing the bond between the siblings unscarred.

“It's good to see a family reunited,” Rab stated quietly, a fond smile on his face and eyes distant.

Eleven's grasp on the sword tightened as he was suddenly reminded of the knight under the ruins of Dundrasil. Perhaps he should suggest a trip to the ruins to put some new flowers on the grave and then find a way to lure everyone to the dungeons. Then, he should also recommend a trip to Puerto Valor – Sylv and his father had been apart too long and Eleven knew the reunion wouldn't go badly-

Eleven's train of thought stopped abruptly when suddenly, Erik guided Mia to them, a carefree grin plastered on his face. Mia looked much more guarded and her eyes seemed to size up all of them. Eleven couldn't blame her, knowing what kind of life she had endured.

“Everyone, this is Mia,” Erik exclaimed, nudging the girl with his elbow, “She has a mouth on her, so I apologize for anything she says in advance.”

“Bugger off, you big loser,” Mia replied as she elbowed Erik in the stomach. She turned her attention back to the group of people in front of her. A look of hesitation and embarrassment crossed over her face before her expression settled for something between boredom and caution. “Uh... thanks, I guess?”

“You're welcome,” Eleven replied while Erik grumbled something about manners.

“Should we head back to Sniflheim?” Serena asked.

“Aye, some grub and warmth would be good for these auld bones.” Rab nodded. The others echoed the sentiment and started slowly heading towards the exit.

Eleven was the last one to move and he walked behind the others without saying anything. Every once in a while, his gaze slid to Erik. Next to the thief, Mia had started chatting with Veronica and the look of dawning horror on Erik's face made Eleven chuckle. If those two banded together, they would be a force to reckon with.

Witnessing that budding friendship wouldn't have been possible Before, Eleven thought, the fledgling mirth fading away from his mind. Before, there had been the weight of guilt on Mia's fragile shoulders, and Veronica...

Eleven bit his lip. A chorus of laughter broke out ahead of him, followed by Erik's indignant voice. However, despite the thief's miffed glare, the corners of his lips were twitching upwards, betraying his barely contained joy. It took all of Eleven's willpower not to openly ogle at the sight of him looking so carefree and elated.

Mia was safe. Free and happy. Oblivious to the fate that had befallen to her in another life.

Eleven had fulfilled his promise to Erik.

Or... Well...

“ _I hope that you will... uh, make me happy again.”_

The words echoed in Eleven's mind like a whisper and seized his body with a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather in Sniflheim. Once, that promised had seemed so simple, so easy to fulfill – because why wouldn't it be, when they were almost embarrassingly in love with each other.

And even now, fulfilling that promise would be nothing but child's play, Eleven realized suddenly as he recalled Erik's quiet admittance about his feelings after the mess with Jasper and Gondolia. He loved Erik, Erik loved him and Mia was free.

And despite that, Eleven hesitated.

Not yet, he thought. Erik needed more time to adjust. Now was not the time to burden Erik with his frivolous feelings.

Eleven inhaled shakily, uncaring of the bitter air. Yes, it would be best to wait for a while. No need to overwhelm Erik. There was a time and place for everything and this was not it.

The decision made, Eleven followed the others like a shadow as they hurriedly passed the Viking Hideout. His eyes were glued to the ground before his feet and deep, deep down, in the darkest corner of Eleven's mind, he doubted and questioned.

If– _When_ will that time come?

_-_

_-_

_-_

That night, sleep didn't come easy for Eleven.

And when it eventually did, Eleven's dreams were nothing but nightmares.

And the next night wasn't any different. Neither was the night after that.

Nor the night after that.

Nor the night after that.

-

-

-

The trek through the Arborian Highlands was laborious. The mountains were harsh and cold no matter the season and the many narrow paths teased the edge of cliffs – one wrong step could easily lead to doom.  
  
In other words, it wasn't a suitable place to be sleep deprived.  
  
And yet here he was, Eleven mused to himself as a yawn broke out of his mouth.  
  
“Tired?” Hendrik asked next to him, his eyes still looking ahead. “Did you not sleep well last night?”  
  
Eleven, his mind still sluggish, admitted, “Been having troubles with it lately.”  
  
“Ah.” Hendrik nodded sympathetically. “Understandable, given the current circumstances – although it would be in your best interests to try and find a cure. Sleep deprivation is a dangerous thing, especially during battles.”  
  
Eleven nodded with a grimace. “Of course, I swear I won't be a hindrance.”  
  
Hendrik's steady steps faltered as he turned to look at Eleven with slightly panicky expression. “I-I apologize, I didn't mean to insinuate anything of that sort.” he cleared his throat. “Have you tried herbs to cure your ailment?”  
  
“Yes, but nothing has worked so far,” Eleven sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. The herbs made it easier to fall asleep but they didn't erase the nightmares. “I've kept my eyes out for any potions and such but they all seem too expensive.”  
  
More like it felt like wasting money for such a small problem, Eleven added in his mind before yawning again. “If only there was a spell to-”  
  
Eleven's mouth closed with an audible click. He blinked, once, twice and marveled at his own foolishness. “Excuse me,” he said to Hendrik before hastening his steps.  
  
“Serena.” Eleven gingerly touched the healer's shoulder to catch her attention. She turned to look at him, a frown marring her face.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I have a question for you,” Eleven stated. Serena tilted her head slightly. “You see, I've been having some trouble with sleeping for a while. So far, nothing had worked and I was wondering if-” another yawn. “If it was possible to cast Snooze spell on myself?”  
  
Eleven had been put under that spell multiple times and while it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, he knew first-hand spell-induced sleep was always dreamless. He could tolerate small discomfort if it meant the end of the nightmares.  
  
The frown on Serena's face deepened. “You've been having sleeping troubles?” she repeated, concerned. After Eleven nodded, she hummed contemplatively. “Well, if nothing has worked for you then yes, it is possible.”  
  
Tension released from Eleven's shoulders but before he could thank Serena, she continued, “However, prolonged use is strictly forbidden.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“While it is self-inflicted, you're still casting a powerful spell on yourself,” Serena explained. “Spells that affect the mind always leave traces of magic behind, even after the spell itself has worn off. That can last few days but normally, we aren't constantly targeted by mind-altering magic so our bodies have time to recover fully...”  
  
Serena gave Eleven a long stare, “However, prolonged use of mind magic means bigger traces left on your mind, which would leave you susceptible to that type of spells.”  
  
“How so?” Eleven couldn't help but ask. In the distance, he could see the gigantic statue of Serenica become clearer.   
  
“For example, if a monster cast Snooze on you, it would be harder for wake you up – same with charm spells.” Serena shook her head before adding, “Oh, and hallucinations would also feel even more real.”  
  
Eleven nodded. His shoulders relaxed slightly and for the first time in a while, he was looking forward to the night. “Understood. I promise to be very careful with it.”

-

-

-

That night, when the moon was high in the sky and only smoke rose from the dying campfire, Eleven softly murmured the incantation for Snooze. The magic seized his body and wrapped around his mind like a blanket.

_Oh, that's useful_ , was Eleven's last thought before closing his eyes.

That night, he did not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I'm supposed to wake up early tomorrow but the demo for DQXIS became available like few hours ago and I rushed to finish this chapter ahahaha. Sorry about any obvious grammar mistakes, I'm like half sleep right now cuz I took melatonin like an hour ago soo... yeah. (Well, the chapter is like 89% about being tired so it's fitting)
> 
> Thank you so much for those who commented and/or left kudos and please, leave feedback if you want!


	3. Chapter 3

Eleven could never quite describe his feelings whenever their little menagerie headed to Cobblestone.

There was nostalgia, of course, Eleven would never forget the moment he first ventured forth to Heliodor; how the wind had caressed his face, the smell of grass after harsh rains, the sight of the city looming in the distance like a guiding star, and how his heart had drummed against his rib cage like a hummingbird.

Then, well, _everything_ happened and now Eleven looked at the same view with an odd feeling of detachment.

In the distance, he saw the village entrance become clearer with every step forward. In Eleven's mind, he could still picture the tall, hastily built gates of the Last Bastion that had once stood on the same spot. Now, the entrance looked bare, vulnerable and a small, but persistent, voice inside Eleven's mind kept whispering that such a humble gate would fall easily during a monster attack.

“Oi!” a solid object suddenly smacked against Eleven's back, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at his right, meeting Veronica's annoyed expression. “Stop looking so glum when we're about to enter your hometown – the people will worry!”

“Sorry,” Eleven replied, dipping his head lightly. Veronica kept looking at him with a slight frown before turning her attention back to her sister.

Eleven straightened his back. A sudden clap on his shoulder startled him slightly.

“Excited to see how far Cobblestone has come?” Erik asked with a grin. Ever since they freed Mia, the thief had seemingly blossomed – he was still a weird mixture of recklessness and extreme caution who didn't mince his words but there was something in the way Erik carried himself now, how his smiles seemed brighter and more carefree. How he seemed to have decided to stop being so frugal with his actions and touches.

Frankly, it was driving Eleven mad.

“Y-Yes,” Eleven managed to utter out, feeling the tips of his ears heating up when he realized just how close Erik was. Behind them, Eleven was fairly certain he heard Sylvando humming the wedding march under his breath.

“There were still some things the village needs, right?” Jade, bless her, decided to ask so Eleven could turn to look at her instead of Erik's radiant face.

Eleven nodded, “I believe it was a mascot.” Truth to be told, he didn't quite understand why Gemma wanted something like that for Cobblestone but his childhood friend was an expert on trends, fashion and people so he was going to trust her on this one.

“Hm...” Sylvando tapped his chin, “What would make a good mascot for a quaint little place like Cobblestone...?”

“A rock?” Serena suggested.

Veronica snorted, “Gee, I wonder how you came up with that,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Does Cobblestone have any unique traditions or folklore that would help?” Jade asked. “You mentioned Tor and the rite to adulthood, is that it?”

“That's pretty much it,” Eleven admitted. The people of Cobblestone, while hard-working and loving, were simple and content with modest life – perfectly satisfied in their little community. Meanwhile, Eleven had never quite found that satisfaction. He had been a fidgety child and that restlessness energy had been used on pranks and sword training. Amber, having been born and raised in Cobblestone, hadn't understood and Eleven suspected she was in denial about the fact that he would one day leave Cobblestone – actually, that applied to the other villagers who all seemed so certain that he and Gemma would get married and stay.

“Knowing Gemma, she'll want the mascot to be cute,” Eleven said distractedly, partially lost in his thoughts. Few years back, he and Gemma had tried dating but that had lasted only three whole days. They spent those three days awkwardly holding hands and then, on the evening of the third day, they had tried kissing. They had ended their budding relationship immediately after – both agreeing that they saw each other more like a sibling rather than a lover.

Suddenly, Sylvando let out a dramatic gasp, snapping Eleven out of his thoughts. “I know the perfect mascot!” the entertainer declared with a wide smile. The glint of mirth in his eyes made Eleven instantly wary.

“What is it?” Serena asked.

Sylvando posed dramatically with a serious expression. “Why, it has been with us all this time, hidden in plain sight and it is-” he did a perfect twirl and extended his right hand. “That!”

Eleven stared blankly at Sylvando's finger, which was pointed towards his direction.

Hendrik sighed, rubbing his temples, “And here I thought you had found something.”

“No, actually, he has a point,” Jade admitted with a laugh.

Eleven gave her a wide-eyed look, “He does?”

“Laddie, ye are the Luminary,” Rab chuckled. “The chosen of Yggdrasil – I wouldnae be surprised if they wanted to make ye the mascot.”

“And, you're cute,” Veronica said airily, “Right, Erik?”

The thief in question spluttered and Eleven rushed to interfere, “I'm, uh, fairly certain that's probably not what Gemma wants,” he protested weakly.

Sylvando smirked. “Well darling, we'll find out soon enough!” he declared as they officially entered Cobblestone.

Eleven sighed, desperately wishing that whatever it was Gemma wanted, it wouldn't be as bad as Sylvando's suggestion.

-

-

-

Once they were done here, Eleven was going to have few stern words with Gemma.

“Watch out!” Veronica cried out somewhere behind Eleven as the Malicious Jörmun charged forward with a roar.

Eleven dodged the beast's fists, barely. Jörmun hit the ground, sending snow flying everywhere which momentarily blinded Eleven. A string of quiet curses escaped from his mouth but he stayed put, hands gripping his greatsword tightly, while in his mind, he begged Veronica to hurry up-

A gigantic fireball flew through the sky like a miniature sun, striking the malicious beast. The snow around Jörmun melted away immediately and Eleven was near enough to feel the blazing fire brush his head like a warning.

_Now_ , he thought, jumping backward to escape the heat as Jörmun screeched.

Suddenly, Erik appeared next to Eleven.“You okay?” the thief asked, a nasty bruise blooming under his left eye. “Veronica's spell didn't hit you, right?”

Eleven shook his head. In the distance, Jade let out a fearsome battle cry as she ran forward. Lightning danced on the blade of her spear, crackling angrily like it was a monster itself.

Oh, Eleven thought. If she was doing that, then the next move should be...

Warmth covered Eleven's body like an embrace and his throbbing bruises and aches faded away like they never happened in the first place. The bruise under Erik's eye vanished. “Thanks, Serena!” the thief called out, throwing a grateful glance towards the healer before charging forward with his knives raised.

Eleven adjusted his grip on his greatsword and waited for his turn to attack. Erik and Hendrik were on the beast, attacking it in near-perfect harmony while Sylvando stayed behind them, his whip lowered as he cast _Oomphle_ on the pair.

The Malicious Jörmun roared, swinging its mighty fists haphazardly. Erik took cover behind Hendrik who raised his shield to block the attacks. Once the swings stopped, they jumped backward to safety.

Eleven started running. In the distance, he saw Rab doing the same, claws raised to strike. Eleven moved to flank the beast and swung his sword with all of his might, mouth opening for a battle cry. Despite being in the eye of the storm, Eleven's heart beat steadily. Calmly. Jörmun was strong but the darkness had stripped it of any higher intelligence, leaving it a mere beast relying solely on its instincts.

Jörmun threw a gigantic snowball towards Eleven. He dodged it and started retreating to safety.

The battle was straightforward, nothing like Jasper or Mordegon who had tricked and deceived until the very last, leaving them to wonder, to fear for that last trick in their sleeves that could have changed everything, could have killed them or worse- 

Erik let out a surprised cry.

Eleven's head immediately whipped to the thief's direction.

His heart stopped.

Erik was lying on the ground, face twisted with pain and one hand holding his ankle. Judging by the marks on the snow-covered ground, the thief had dodged the attack only to slip on the hidden ice under the snow.

And there, just a few feet away from Erik, stood Jörmun. The beast huffed and puffed, its breath visible due to the cold air, as it stared down at Erik with dull eyes.

For a brief moment, the Hekswood was quiet. Nobody moved, the snow stayed still and the wind halted.

For a brief moment, the world was peaceful.

And then Jörmun howled.

Eleven's body moved on its own. He didn't think, didn't hesitate as he let go of his greatsword and ran forward. Jörmun banged its chest as it roared again, its tone almost joyful. Behind Eleven, he heard Sylvando shout something. The ground under Eleven's boots shook as Jörmun lowered its hands. Erik was trying to get on his knees, face rapidly paling in the face of his impending doom.

Jörmun charged forward.

But Eleven was the first one to reach Erik.

He grabbed the thief by his shoulders and brought him securely against his own chest. Just like they had done many, many times in another life, Eleven's mind supplied as he leaped, twisting his body so he was between Erik and the ground. Behind him, he heard a crash as the beast shattered the earth on the spot Erik had just been, along with the smell of fire for some unknown reasons.

Eleven's left arm made the first contact with the ground. An audible crack reached Eleven's ears just before his whole felt as if it had been ignited. He inhaled sharply, biting his lip to stop a pained shout erupting from his mouth, and opened his eyes to see Jörmun grunting unhappily.

Eleven lifted his right hand, “Zap,” he murmured, feeling magic rush through his veins until it reached the end of his fingertips. _Please let this be the end_ , he thought. _Please, please, please-_

A bolt of lightning burst from the sky, bright and unforgiving as it hit its target with perfect accuracy. Jörmun roared, howled and eventually whimpered as the spell continued draining the darkness out of it.

Eleven let his hand fall limply on the snow. Thank Yggdrasil, he thought, resting the back of his head on the icy ground. His left arm was throbbing painfully but the snow and cold somewhat soothed the pulsating ache.

“You...” Erik panted, shifting his position on top of Eleven. His eyes were wide, like two sapphires against his snow-white face.

“Are you okay?” Eleven asked, a worried look crossing over his face.

“Y-Yeah, I think so,” Erik replied before his gaze slid from Eleven's face to his body. The Luminary could see the exact moment when Erik realized their position from the way the thief's eyes widened even more and a light pink flush dusted his cheeks. “Fuck, Sorry, I'll, uh, get off-” Erik tried to scramble up. In his panic, his hand touched Eleven's left arm and the latter let out an anguished cry.

Erik froze almost immediately, “Shit, you're hurt-”

“Erik! Eleven!”

The pair snapped their heads towards the voice to see the rest of their companions running towards them. Erik removed himself from on top of Eleven, his every movement careful and light.

“Are you okay?” Serena asked as she sat down, uncaring of the snow.

Erik pointed at Eleven. “He is hurt.”

“I think my left arm is broken,” Eleven said to Serena, who nodded. Her hands hovered over the said arm as she murmured _Heal_ and let the healing magic burst from her fingers. The agony faded into a mild throbbing and Eleven's shoulders relaxed. “Don't overexert yourself,” he ordered softly, noting the beads of sweat dropping from Serena's temple.

“How about you, lad?” Rab asked Erik. Eleven could practically hear the denies before the thief even opened his mouth and said, “He couldn't stand properly.”

Erik looked distressed, “Just a sprained ankle,” he grumbled in a very Erik-like fashion.

Rab tutted, “Well, that ainnae good – how are ye goin' to get out of here with an injured leg?” he placed his own hands on Erik's ankle and cast a healing spell.

Serena lowered her hands, “I managed to relieved most of the pain and hasten the recovery but it would be for the best if you don't use it for few days.”

Eleven opened his mouth to thank her when suddenly, Veronica stepped forward, her face almost as red as her cap. “Are you _insane_!?” she shrieked, “I am this close to smacking you – has the cold frozen your brain completely or did you forget just about every single rule we have?!”

Eleven frowned, giving the mage a blank stare. “Her spell almost hit you during your daring dash for Erik,” Sylvando supplied after noticing his confusion.

Eleven's eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly into a small 'o'. That must have been the fire he had smelled. His eyes slid over Veronica's form and noticed the way her fists were shaking with barely contained rage and upset.

“In his defense, there wasn't much time to think about the formations,” Jade noted, voice gentle as she placed her hand on Veronica's shoulder. “Although suddenly dashing recklessly like that could have ended very badly.”

“Sorry,” Eleven said softly to Veronica. She nodded jerkily, glaring at the ground with glistening eyes.

After Serena and Veronica had joined their merry band of misfits, it became clear that they needed to strategize their movements better on the battlefield – when it had been just him and Erik, it was easy to keep track on the other person during a fight. However, having a team of four people had thrown everything into chaos. Both Erik and Eleven were front-line attackers while the sisters preferred to stay behind to use their magic. Keeping track on the monsters in the front and the magic coming from behind had caused too many close calls.

After a certain battle, in which Eleven almost fell to his doom thanks to Serena's unfortunately placed _Woosh_ spell, they had sat down and devised actual battle formations and tactics to make it easier to know who was where and what they were doing. Those tactics proved to be valuable as their group grew bigger and bigger.

“Well, at least nobody got hurt badly,” Rab stated solemnly as he stood up, his smile making the wrinkles around his eyes more prominent. “Whaddya say to have a wee chat with the beastie there?”

Eleven's head snapped towards the direction of Jörmun. He got up, slowly, and approached the beast.

-

-

-

That evening, after they had set the campsite in Snærfelt, Erik took his usual seat next to Eleven. “I, uh, realized that I never thanked you for saving my skin back there,” he gestured towards the Hekswood and stared at the campfire. “So, here I am. Thanking you.”

“You're welcome,” Eleven replied. “Though you didn't have to – you would have done the same to me.”

A huff of laughter escaped from Erik, “Can't argue with that.” the smile on his face faded into a frown. “Just... try not to do it again, okay? We can't have our Luminary charging recklessly into danger for one surplus thief.”

Eleven's chest burned and he tried to keep his shoulders relaxed. This was an old argument, almost as long as their journey, and he had tried to tell Erik that he wasn't replaceable over and over again multiple times in multiple situations.

And he had started to see progress after the Fall, after he had given Erik the silver earrings and they became lovers; because then there had been nothing to stop Eleven from showering the thief with love and affection.

That Erik had started to realize just how important and worthy of love he was.

This Erik didn't.

Just add that to the pile of other fuck-ups, Eleven thought, swallowing his bitterness when he spoke with a light tone, “Pot calling the kettle, Erik? I don't think I want to hear such a lecture from you.”

Erik chuckled, ruffling the back of his head, “Hey now, I'm not that bad.”

Eleven gave him a pointed look. “Yes. Yes, you are,” he stated bluntly, thought flying to another Erik in a golden castle, running towards the danger without any hesitation and the way the gold had quickly spread all over his body. Eleven turned to look at the campfire, hands gripping his jacket tightly. “I can only hope that you'll stop doing that – I would be lost without my beloved thie-”

Eleven snapped his mouth shut with an audible click, the tips of his ears reddening as he heard Erik inhale sharply next to him.

In fact, Eleven was fairly sure he heard the whole campsite go completely silent in the blink of an eye. He let the familiar mask of stoicism fall over his face and tried to command the flush on his cheeks to vanish.

Beloved thief, a nickname he had started calling Erik soon after they stumbled into a relationship. A nickname that, at first, made them both blush when used, as they both had been but awkward fawns taking their first steps towards an unknown territory. But Eleven had persisted, and the last time he had called Erik that nickname had brought a gentle smile on Erik's face.

Erik cleared his throat, “Y-You, uh, would be lost without any one of us, r-right?” he laughed, voice an octave or two higher than usual, “W-We're all pretty belo- _dear_ to you, right? Right!?”

Eleven openly stared at the beet red blush on Erik's face and marveled what a fool he had once been, to have spent many nights wide awake lamenting his unrequited love.

This was his chance, Eleven realized with a jolt. He could easily deny Erik's statement and say that there was only one person he had ever called his beloved. He could picture it with almost frightening clarity – the way Erik's eyes would widen when the realization struck him. In his mind, he could hear the shocked silence after his declaration before Sylvando let out a screech that would scare off any nearby monsters. The others would approach them and hug and offer their congratulations. Rab would say something mortifying like how he had similar taste as his mother.

_(The only thing he couldn't see clearly was Veronica's reaction. Because she hadn't been there the first time, hadn't been there to offer her share of teasing and faking her grimace for all the lovey-dovey crap. Instead, her body had been rotting somewhere under the debris of Yggdrasil, becoming one with the poisonous land.)_

All Eleven had to do was say _No_ to be a step closer to the happily ever after he longed for.

What came out of his mouth was, “Y-Yeah, you're all very precious to me.”

Erik smiled. Eleven hated the fact that he could easily tell how wry it was. “That's what I thought.”

Suddenly, something crashed behind Eleven's back. “Veronica, are you okay?” Jade's voice followed after the sound, a tinge of disappointment coloring her voice.

“NO” Veronica screeched. “WHA-HOW-I AM MOST DEFINITELY NOT OKAY!”

-

-

-

When the Luminary's gang finally arrived at Cobblestone, it didn't take long for the villagers to show up like a swarm of monsters, overwhelming the group with their heartfelt and loud gratitude.

“There shall be a celebration in your honor!” the mayor declared, receiving cheers from the people around him.

Serena frowned. “O-Oh, there's no need to do that for us-”

“Nonsense!” the mayor laughed jovially. “Your aid has helped us to rebuild our beloved home! A feast is the least we can do to show our endless gratitude!”

Gemma's grandmother stepped in with a smile, “He is right, you know,” she stated, “Please, go rest while we handle the preparations – you must be exhausted.”

Serena, Jade, and Hendrik all had similar troubled expressions which prompted Eleven to speak, “It's fine – the people of Cobblestone are always looking for an excuse to celebrate.”

“Damn right we are!” somebody shouted, making everyone laugh. After that, the tired adventurers were herded into the heart of the rebuilt village to wait for the evening. Gemma welcomed them to rest at her house, an invitation that was quickly accepted by the group.

After a quick nap to soothe his aching legs, Eleven got up and did few rounds around the village with Sandy. It was admittedly strange, Eleven thought. The view was almost identical to the one he had seen countless times but there was something off about it. The rebuilt houses were almost perfect replicas but not quite – the stone walls were different, the grass on top of the roofs was too green, and everything lacked the same grit that had once adorned the buildings.

Just another change to the scenery, Eleven mused to himself. As if Cobblestone hadn't gone through them enough in a short amount of time.

Eventually, dusk fell, painting the sky with varying shades of purple. The last slivers of light took the warm air with them and a bitter wind blew over the village like a vengeful mist monster. However, that didn't stop the people of Cobblestone from rolling up their sleeves and preparing the mightiest feast that one could prepare in such a short amount of time. Tables and chairs were taken outside, torches were lit, and eventually, big plates full of food were brought to the tables, courtesy mostly of Amber who had taken it as a personal challenge to cook a banquet worthy of kings and queens. The smell of delicious food wafted through the air like a siren's call and the honorary guests were quickly ushered outside so that the celebration could start.

The Cobblestone feasts were simple but jovial affairs. The few musicians played their songs which were always accompanied by laughter, all kinds of drinks flowed freely and it was always guaranteed that at least one of the elders would get a sore back from all the dancing.

And even though the village had changed a bit, the Cobblestone celebration style hadn't. Sylvando wasted no time to find the most crowded spot and started doing magic tricks. Rab was conversing with Amber and the mayor while Erik and Veronica squabbled by the buffet table. Hendrik had once again found several fans to talk to and Serena, Jade, and Gemma were playing with Sandy.

Meanwhile, Eleven was immediately whisked away by Cole and a few other children who demanded him to show his _'super cool sword moves'_. They dragged him to the cave near the entrance to Tor, where he proceeded to perform some basic sword swings. However, despite their seemingly endless amount of energy, the late hour and the excitement started to quickly catch on with the children and half an hour later Eleven found himself delivering the barely awake kids to their parents.

After Cole was sleeping securely in his father's arms, Eleven started wandering through the village to find his companions, whom he eventually discovered near the item shop with Gemma, who was gesturing wildly as she spoke with a mischievous grin.

_Oh no_ , Eleven thought as he approached their table.

“-can't be true!” Jade exclaimed with a laugh.

Gemma giggled, “No, no, I swear it on my great-grandparents' graves! Then he-” Gemma's eyes slid to Eleven and her smile widened, “Oh, hi there Eleven, already free from the little blighters?”

The Luminary nodded, sitting down next to his childhood friend. “Dare I ask what you were talking about?”

“Dear Gemma was telling us stories about your little childhood mischief,” Sylvando said with mirthful eyes.

“Is that story about you and your granddad's britches true??” Serena asked. Shoulders sagging, Eleven gave her a short nod.

“Oh. Oh dear,” Serena stuttered while Rab chortled next to her.

Eleven turned to Gemma, exasperated expression plastered on his face. “I leave you with them for thirty minutes and you somehow managed to damage my good reputation.”

Gemma gave him a sunny smile. “Well, excuse me mister I-have-travelled-to-all-corners-of-Erdrea, I am just a simple girl from a backwater village – funny childhood stories are all I have.”

“And they sure are funny.” Erik gave Eleven a toothy grin, “You know after we deal with the dark star, I'm certain that King Carnelian will personally oversee the construction of that slime smoothie cafe you desired to have that one summer.”

Eleven turned to look at Gemma so quickly he felt something snap in his neck, “You told them _that?!_ ”

Veronica roared with laughter and even Hendrik couldn't quite stifle his chuckles. Gemma giggled, “Oh come now, who doesn't love a good story about the legendary Luminary almost destroying his home-”

Eleven tensed. A vision of the Last Bastion flashed before his eyes.

“-by accidentally releasing a horde of slimes in his home!” Gemma declared. A chorus of laughter followed her words. Eleven stayed silent, his shoulders tensing as he stared at a crack on the table with a blank look.

Something nudged his arm, snapping him out of his thought, “Eleven?” Gemma tilted her head slightly, a frown on her face. The others were also looking at him with varying expression of confusion. “You okay?”

“Ah, yeah,” Eleven laughed nervously. He scratched his cheek. “I just remembered the verbal lashing mum gave me after that mess. And how she made me clean all the goo around the house.” he shuddered, not completely because of that memory. “Did you know that dried goo is pretty much impossible to get from wooden surfaces?”

Veronica grinned deviously, “Can't say I knew that – you see, I don't go around stuffing slimes in bowls.”

Her remark made the others laugh and Eleven relaxed. He leaned against the table, a small smile on his face as he let the others talk around him.

Then Eleven's gaze slid to Gemma and he froze. Her azure eyes were on him, narrowed slightly into an expression she had always worn when he tried to trick her during their childhood.

As soon as Gemma realized that she had been caught, a sickly sweet smile spread on her face as she turned to look at the others, “I am terribly sorry you all, but I just recalled that granddad wanted to talk to me and Eleven.” she stood up, hands clasped together in front of her face. “I'm terribly sorry about this, we'll be right back!”

The others nodded, perhaps a bit bewildered by the suddenness of Gemma's actions. She grasped Eleven by his elbow and dragged him away. Eleven followed silently, shoulders sagged in defeat.

Instead of leading Eleven to the center of the town, Gemma suddenly turned right and circled back towards where they came from, now hidden by the newly repaired houses and shadows. They passed the table where Eleven's other friends were merrily chatting together, passed the cave where they had often played as children and headed towards Tor.

However, when they came across the intersection, Gemma turned left and Eleven's stomach lurched. So that was where she wanted to go, he realized.

The sound of flowing water soon reached Eleven's ears. He looked towards the familiar sight of a lonely pier on top of a river, accompanied only by the gravestones that adorned the surrounding ground.

Gemma spoke suddenly, “Thanks to today's excitement, you haven't been able to visit your granddad, right?”

Eleven tore his gaze from the small pier and turned his attention to Gemma. She had let go of his elbow and stood a few steps away from him, a melancholic smile on her face as she looked at something to her left.

Eleven knew exactly where her gaze was and he followed it until he too was gazing at Chalky's grave. It was small and humble – too modest for such an incredible person – and some dirt speckled the base of the stone like a stubborn fungus but it was whole, unbroken, untouched. Perhaps even Jasper had known better than to disturb the dead – or perhaps there had been another reason why the graveyard had escaped the destruction without a scratch.

Eleven placed his hand on top of the grave. The stone under his fingers was cool and rough. He didn't say anything – he never did whenever he visited this particular grave. To him, words were sometimes too difficult, either too bare or too significant or too much like a weapon that could either hurt or protect.

Instead, he sent a silent prayer to Yggdrasil and hoped it conveyed his thoughts and emotions.

Inhaling deeply, Eleven removed his hand and turned to look at Gemma expectantly. The girl in question snorted, “Oh, don't look at me like that.”

Eleven tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Like you're a criminal facing a trial,” Gemma replied before gesturing towards the pier. “Shall we?”

Once, that same rickety pier had been their secret base, their headquarter of mischief where they spent many days of fishing with poorly self-made rods and planning their next prank. Back then, they hadn't been allowed to go to the pier without an adult, due to the river, but that same restriction had only made the place seem more alluring, a true temptation in the eyes of a pair of seven-year-old children.

Now, they once again sat on the pier, older and wiser. “It is my imagination or did this pier seem much bigger before?” Gemma asked with a laugh.

“Maybe the water has shrunk it?” Eleven mused, earning a giggle from Gemma. A comfortable silence fell between them. In the distance, Eleven could hear the echoes of the celebration being carried over with the river and he listened to the merriment while waiting for Gemma to start speaking. This was a familiar dance, one they had performed few times –when Chalky fell suddenly ill, and when Gemma's mother had been found dead in her bed one morning – and they both knew the steps.

If Gemma needed comforting, then she would talk, complain and yell. She would erupt, tell her worries and fears without any restraint, curse the world and fate, and sometimes, when she was particularly upset, use such language it would make a sailor blush – all this with the complete confidence that Eleven listened to her every word, offered her his silent comfort and never, ever judged her for her feelings.

However, in Eleven's case, Gemma would first coax the problem out of him with gentle words and soft encouragements. Articulating his thoughts and words and conveying them hadn't ever been Eleven's strong suit but Gemma had mastered weaving them together into a comprehend story a long time ago. Sometimes, just hearing Gemma repeat his problems helped but if not, then she too would comfort Eleven with gentle words.

Chalky had often joked that Gemma was Eleven's mouth and he was her ears, and perhaps there was a seed of truth in that. They had always been an odd pair, with vastly different personalities but instead of clashing, those differences had been like two puzzle pieces clicking together perfectly.

Suddenly, Gemma spoke. “Oh, right!” she dug something out of her apron. “I almost forgot, I made this for you.”

She handed Eleven something he couldn't see well in the dark. Eyebrows furrowed, he brought the item closer to his face, squinting to see it better. It was a charm, quite similar to the one she had given him before he departed from Cobblestone. Except this one had more detailed stitch-work decorating the fabric, clearly born from many days of work.

Eleven's gaze softened, “You didn't have to,” he murmured, unbuttoning his jacket so he could slip it into the breast pocket, where the other charm also resided. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to,” Gemma claimed, resting her head on top of her palms as her expression turned somber. “Perhaps it's a bit silly but... well, you have helped us so much during your journey and I wanted to help you somehow but the only thing I can do is sew so...” she chuckled. “Pretty insignificant, compared to what you have done to us, to Erdrea-”

“Gemma, please don't say that,” Eleven interrupted with a hint of steel in his tone. “Perhaps it seems insignificant to you – and I can understand why – but to know that you're alive and well and thinking of me has helped me to regain the strength to move forward so many times.”

Gemma gave him a grateful smile before her expression turned serious again. “Has there been many times when that has happened?” she asked, “Times when you have felt powerless to continue forward?”

Several visions of the World of Ruin flashed in Eleven's mind. Before he could even think of an answer, Gemma's eyes narrowed again. “So there has.” she inhaled deeply before continuing speaking, probably having seen the confusion on Eleven's face. “Ever since King Carnelian freed us from the dungeons, I've noticed that sometimes you... you get this weird expression.”

Eleven tilted his head, dread swirling in his stomach. “Weird expression?” he parroted.

“I can't really explain it,” Gemma admitted. “But it was really obvious after the dark star rose. I just assumed it had something to do with that but...” she trailed off, eyebrows furrowed. “But then it just kept appearing every once in a while, in so many different situations and Eleven, please, can you tell me what's wrong?”

Gemma raised her head to meet Eleven's gaze. Her eyes were glistening, like a galaxy of emotions adorned with bright stars, and when she spoke, the desperation alone in her voice was enough to make Eleven feel faint. “Because I can't bear to see you look like something is eating you inside out.”

A shuddering breath escaped from Eleven's mouth. For as long as he could remember, Gemma had been his best friend, his rock, support and the greatest partner in crime. When they had been children, she had been the person Eleven went to when he wondered about his birth parents and the reasons why they abandoned him. Whenever the world seemed too overwhelming and loud to Eleven, Gemma had been there to help him find a spot to calm down.

The last strand of Eleven's resolution broke apart. The walls around his most protected secret burned down into a pile of ash.

He opened his mouth and told her.

He told her everything.

He told her of the fall of Yggdrasil, the Fortress of Fear and the Time Sphere. He told her of Veronica's sacrifice, how he had been able to grasp this chance to bring her, to bring so many people, back He spoke monotonously, his voice never going above a whisper and there were times when he jumbled over his words and had to pause to think of a way to continue.

But Gemma stayed silent, encouraging him to speak, even as her own attentive expression morphed into one of complete horror.

“-and that's pretty much it,” Eleven ended, mouth dry from all the talking. He couldn't recall the last time he had spoken so much in one go. “Now I'm here.”

Gemma opened her mouth. Closed it with an audible click. Even in the darkness, Eleven could see the hesitation on her face clear as day. “I...” she eventually stammered. “I don't know what to say.”

Despite feeling like he had been wrung dry of emotions, Eleven let out a huff of laughter. “Can't say I blame you.”

Another silence followed – although this time, it was tense. Like there was a thick blanket embracing and suffocating them at the same time. Somewhere in the distance, an owl was hooting loudly, perhaps angry at the folks of Cobblestone for still celebrating so loudly and scaring off any potential prey. Eleven stared at the river, at the reflection of the moon on the surface and let his hair hide his blank expression.

“I...” Gemma started before hesitating again. Eleven tilted his head to show that he was listening. “You don't have to answer me but...”

Eleven turned his attention to his childhood friend. She stared back and the sorrow in her gaze stung. “Do you regret it?” Gemma asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No.” was Eleven's automatic response. But Gemma kept looking at him with those sad, knowing eyes as she scooted closer and let Eleven rest his head on her shoulder.

Eleven closed his eyes. “I can't afford to have any,” he managed to finally admit in a broke voice, hands clutching the fabric of his jacket with iron grip as he tried to swallow the self-hatred and dread down his throat – because how dare he, the Luminary, even think about having regrets when his actions brought back so many lives, reunited so many families, brought Yggdrasil back to Her glory-

There were times when he didn't regret it; such as whenever they passed that one Arborian couple with their newborn son, when he came across Cole with both of his parents, and every time he saw Veronica. He didn't regret it when they passed vibrant cities and quaint towns or when he spent time in marketplaces full of fresh food. He didn't regret it whenever he gazed at Yggdrasil and Her branches full of glimmering leaves with no bare spots in sight.

However, that sense of accomplishment could crumble as easily as paper in an instant; A word from one of Eleven's companions, a single glance from Erik, or a flash of a memory that hasn't happened in this world were all enough to stop Eleven's breath, stop his heart and make his stomach twist and chest tighten-

”Oh Eleven-” Gemma breathed, throwing her thin arms around him and squeezed hard. Her whole body trembled, ”I'm sorry,” she sobbed, “I'm so sorry. About Veronica, about Cobblestone, about Erik- Oh Yggdrasil, how can y-you bear to-to be with t-t-them?”

“It hurts,” Eleven whispered shakily. “It hurts so much.”

The cry Gemma let out was full of heartache. She held him in her pale arms, offering an anchor for Eleven to focus on even as he grew numb and all the colors of the night seemed to fade around him.

She was his mouth. He was her ears. And now, her tears were also his own, shed on a lonely pier where no one but the dead could hear them.

-

-

-

That night, when Eleven was lying on his bed in his childhood home, he made a vow.

_I'll tell them the truth_ , he promised in his mind. Tomorrow, they were heading to Nautica to talk to Queen Marina in case they needed help, and after that, it was likely that they would once again set sail to Snifheilm to visit Mia and exchange serpent souls with Krystalinda.

That should give him enough time to figure out what, and how, to tell them.

That night, Eleven fell asleep on his own, without the help of herbs or spells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Eleven and Gemma being bbf 
> 
> Anyway here's another rant regarding something about the game and it is Gemma. Now I love Gemma as a character, she is just lovely and has a good design but what I don't like about her is her role in the game. 
> 
> First, the fact that she has very little screen time In the game. In most jrpgs, the Love Interest is a party member and (hopefully) has their own history and motivations that don't have anything to do with the Hero. Gemma doesn't have that, her character revolves completely around the protagonist (ffs the only unique trait you learn about her that doesn't have anything to do with the hero, is something you learn in a fucking loading screen (that she is a skilled tailor and wants to see people dressed in cobblestone clothes) Then there's the fact that the Hero is a silent protagonist which pretty much makes it really hard to write any good romance. And as the last nail on the coffin, the fucking reward you get for actually marrying her? A trophy and few bits of dialogue from her and that's it. No one else reacts to it. Ffs, there's not even a cutscene of wedding bells or anything. Gemma is in the game so that there can be like three awkward romance cutscenes in a game that over one hundred hour long and the reward you get if you do what the game almost forces you to do is nothing.
> 
> Tl;dr Gemma is great and the devs did her dirty.
> 
> Anyway, Next time on Dragon Ball Z!!! Things get better! Ahahahaa, yah no I'm lying.
> 
> Things get worse. In fact, I think the chapter will be the meanest fucking thing I have ever written. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Sorry if there are many grammatical errors, I edited this in a hurry. Kudos and comments are appreciated!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE THE TAGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!

The first thing Eleven did when he had some free time in Sniflheim, was to head to the item shop to buy a notebook. The one he finally left the store with was small, with gray made of sturdy paper and had cost only a few gold coins.

For Eleven, it was perfect. He returned to the inn, giving the receptionist a quick nod as a greeting as he passed her and went to the room he shared with Rab and Erik. The room was empty – Erik was spending time with Mia, and Rab was most likely in the tavern – and Eleven sat down by the small writing desk near the window. After some rummaging, he found a small bottle of ink and a quill, meant for weary travelers to write letters to their loved ones back home.

Eleven uncorked the bottle and opened his new notebook. He tapped the desk with the quill (which was still clean) and frowned at the blank page. This was an old trick he had used often during his childhood; whenever he had to say or explain something, he had found it to be much easier to just write his words down and read it aloud.

But by Yggdrasil, where could he even begin? Letting out a sigh, Eleven dipped the tip of the quill into the bottle and placed it on the front page. He started writing with a hesitant hand.

_'Do you guys remember Mordegon's last words? About how he hadn't been the only one who defied the flow of time? Well, the truth is that he was right. And there is something I can't hide any longer-'_

-

-

-

Three days later, The Salty Stallion slowly drifted away from the Sniflheim harbor. The sea air around the region was bitter and unforgiving, and when the kingdom became a mere spot in the distance, everyone rushed inside for some warmth.

Eventually, when the sun was setting behind the horizon and the frosty air of Sniflheim region had melted into something mellower, Eleven found himself staring out in the ocean, arms resting over the wooden rail. The wind ruffled his hair and the smell of sea permeated the air – a scent he had come to enjoy during his travels.

Eleven's hand snuck into his jacket pocket where several folded pieces of paper seemed to burn a spot into his thigh. Nervousness mixed with anxiety bubbled in his stomach like the worst kind of medicine.

Eleven licked his lips. As soon as he went back inside, he would tell them. He would finally reveal the truth, let his heart be displayed for the others to see, and it would be a lie to say the mere thought of that didn't paralyze him with fear.

But he had to do this, Eleven thought with determined eyes. 

“Oh!” A surprised gasp broke Eleven out of his trance. He turned around to see Serena standing behind him, “Sorry, I didn't expect anyone to be here – should I leave?”

Eleven shook his head and gestured towards the spot next to him. Perhaps some company would help distract him, he hoped as Serena approached him.

A comfortable silence fell over them as they gazed at the horizon. Even before the Fall, Eleven had found Serena's presence soothing, most likely because of their similarities; neither of them was very talkative, both of them preferred to follow rather than lead, and secretly, they were probably the most stubborn people in their group.

A gust of wind blew over the ship, tousling Serena's long hair wildly. Yelping, the harpist immediately tried to tame her rebellious hair.

“Have you ever considered cutting your hair?” the words were out of Eleven's mouth before he managed to even register them and he grimaced internally. What a way to poke an old bruise. 

Serena turned to look at him, seemingly surprised by the question. “I can't say I have,” she replied with a hum, fiddling with a strand of her wheat-colored hair. “I've always worn it long so I don't even know how it would look. Probably a bit stupid.”

“I think it would suit you,” Eleven stated, wincing when he could hear the hint of uncertainty in his voice. While he meant that, deep down he selfishly hoped she wouldn't do that. He couldn't even imagine what his reaction would be to wake up one day and see Serena with a short hair again.

“You think so?” Serena asked, fingers brushing her golden locks. “Well, perhaps one day – I am quite attached to this style.”

Eleven nodded, clenching his hands as relief relaxed his shoulders. The silence resumed, still comfortable. The deck basked in the sunlight, replacing the last bits of Sniflheim chill with pleasant warmth and making the sea glimmer like countless diamonds. 

Then Eleven saw it.

In the distance, sharp rocks towered above the ocean surface like raised swords, challenging any passing ships to approach the treacherous waters. A thin veil of mist embraced the area, barely visible from the distance but enticing enough to attract the attention of any sailor who was too blind to understand the possible dangers lurking behind it.

Eleven inhaled sharply. That's right, he thought. They were sailing straight south from the Sniflheim region. It was only natural that they would pass this place.

The Strand.

Sorrow stung Eleven's chest. The tale of Michelle and Kai had been the first time he had ever felt truly powerless to help – before them, there had always been something, a spark of hope and a dash of luck that had helped them resolve conflicts. They had managed to escape Heliodor soldiers multiple times, had been able to help so many other people like Vince and Faris.

They hadn't been able to help Michelle.

Eleven sighed and his gaze fell to his hands. All of a sudden, the sound of the sea wasn't all that comforting. The crash of the waves reminded him too much of that one night in Saikiki Beach when Michelle-

“She's probably still waiting.” 

Eleven's breath hitched, head snapping towards Serena whose features were tense with grief. A gust of wind blew over them, nothing but a warm breeze and yet, he could barely feel it. “What?” he croaked out.

Serena was still looking at the sea, remorse and sorrow apparent on her face. “Sometimes I can't help but think...” she started. Paused. Closed her mouth and clasped her hands together like she always did whenever she felt sad or guilty. Then she spoke again, “...that lying to her was cruel.”

Eleven's breath stopped. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out the sound of the sea and breeze until all he could hear was his own quickening heartbeat. His hands grasped the railing tightly and yet, he could barely feel the smooth wood under his fingers. 

“What,” he repeated, voice an octave high than usually. Hysteria was bubbling in his chest, boiling hotter and hotter until the edges of his vision were blackening and there was something in his throat, preventing him from breathing and gods, he needed to leave, he needed to _leave_ -

Serena glanced at Eleven, a worried frown wrinkling her face. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I...” Eleven swallowed and tried to give her a wobbly smile. “I think I'm getting seasick.”

“Oh dear, maybe you should get some rest?” Serena suggested. She didn't seem to realize that Eleven had never gotten seasick before. “I can bring you some tea later?” She sounded so sympathetic, so kind as if she hadn't just made the floor disappear under him.

“Thank you but I would rather try to sleep,” Eleven managed to say before rushing past Serena. The wooden boards under his feet trembled as he ran, escaped, inside the ship.

However, instead of going into his cabin, Eleven ran inside the hold – the same hold where they had once found amnesiac Erik. As soon as he closed the door after him, Eleven slid to the floor and rested his head against his knees, hands covering his mouth in a desperate attempt to silence his stuttering gasps.

In his mind, Eleven recalled a certain moment with stark clarity. The eerie silence of the Strand, the rotting ship in the background and the pristine sand that sparkled under the sun. He recalled Michelle, her dawn-colored hair and tail, her eyes that seemed to be even bluer than the sea and her soft, melodic voice. 

But the thing that Eleven remembered the clearest, was the way her expression had crumbled when he told her that Kai was dead.

Eleven's hands flew to his hair, grasping it so tightly it hurt. He didn't understand – Michelle's tale had ended during their hunt for the Orbs, she should be dead, just seafoam that washed away from the shore of Lonalulu that one fateful night –

But that wasn't the case here, in the past he had traveled to.

What does it mean, Eleven thought feverishly. How was it possible? Where...

Where was he?

His breath stopped. In his stomach, something dark awakened from its slumber.

Who...

Who were those people he had called his companions?

Coldness seized Eleven's body. An icy hand gripped his rib cage, lungs and heart, making it harder to breathe. All color seemed to bleed out of his vision and his surroundings turned into a blurry mess right before his eyes as his breath quickened too fast, too suddenly. “No,” Eleven gasped, his body folding into itself. No, no, no no – he couldn't think that, couldn't consider that possibility, because if he did, if he let that idea slither into his heart, then, then-

Eleven brought his right hand to his lips and _bit_ to stop the scream that was threatening to crawl from his throat. His whole body convulsed, his feet kicking the floor and other hand digging into his thigh. The coppery taste of blood was nothing new – the world after the Fall had been brutal and unforgiving – but the raw agony that coursed through his veins was not something he had ever experienced before.

Muffled laughter echoed down to the hold, joyous and carefree. A complete opposite of the choked gasps that came out of Eleven's mouth. He could picture the scene above him almost perfectly – how the others were conversing around that ridiculously grand dinner table that Sylvando had somehow managed to get on board, the atmosphere relaxed and full of light. Blissfully unaware of the torment that was trying to suffocate the Luminary underneath their feet.

How _nice_.

Eleven froze. Something dark and bitter was trying to plant its roots into his mind. Jealousy, he realized with a jolt, hand falling limply to the floor and dirtying the wooden boards with few drops of blood. He had never been prone to jealousy – his mother had spoken about modesty and being satisfied with what they had ever since he was a child and he had taken those lessons to his heart.

But this ugly feeling couldn't be anything else and all of a sudden, the jealousy twisted and morphed into something that left Eleven trembling with barely contained rage, a rage that was directed towards himself. He scrambled up and paced around the hold, nails digging into his palms painfully. Red bled into the edges of Eleven's vision. Before he had broken the Time's Sphere, he ignored the pleas of his friends, had ignored the Timekeeper's warnings, and paid no mind to the implications of the consequences.

It was he who had chosen to travel back in time anyway. It was he who abandoned his friends and a world they had saved from certain doom.

He had no right to be jealous.

Eleven exhaled shakily. Another fit of laughter erupted from above, sounding like mockery to his ears and he desperately wanted to slam his head against the wall to knock himself unconscious if only to escape the reality for a brief moment. Instead, he stayed there, dwelling in his inner turmoil, hands covering his mouth to stop any voices from coming out as the others' laughter continued echoing in his mind. It was probably the closest he had ever felt to having his own personal hell.

-

-

-

That night, when the moon was high in the cloudless sky, Eleven found himself back on the deck, leaning against the rail as he stared at the sea with vacant, tired eyes. A strong gust of wind ruffled his hair and made the waves crash indignantly against the Stallion as if angered by the disturbance.

Eleven let out a sigh, eyes dropping to his hands and the ink-stained pages he was grasping tightly. He had spent hours writing those papers, slaved over the word choice and the explanations. He had written answers to questions that would have likely come up, poured his heart out on those silly little papers.

Only the moon and the waves were there to witness how Eleven ripped the pages into small pieces.

None of that mattered anymore.

Eleven crumpled the pieces into a ball and extended his hand forward. “ _Frizz_.” he murmured, letting the magic surge from his arm to his hand. A bright flame appeared on his palm, dancing as it devoured the paper like a starving beast. He didn't have the same perfectly-honed control over his Magic like the twins and the flame died quickly, leaving behind only a pile of ash and burnt pieces of paper.

Another gust of wind blew over, carrying the ash with it to the horizon. The corners of Eleven's lips curled upwards humorlessly as he was suddenly reminded of that night in Arboria where he witnessed Serena shear her hair short. At least she had a good reason. He was just being a coward, an imposter masqueraded as someone he wasn't.

Eleven turned around and retreated inside, into his cabin. As soon as he was lying on his bed, he cast Snooze without hesitation, too afraid of the demons that would certainly plague his nightmares.

-

-

-

When Eleven had traveled back in time, it had felt like stumbling in his childhood home without any lights – familiar yet unnerving. The appearance of Calasmos had temporarily paralyzed him, and the fear of it was still there, in the darkest depths of his mind that Eleven rarely touched upon.  
  
However, now he felt as if he was existing in the eye of the storm, alone and defenseless. Him against the whole world – the world he suddenly didn't know to be his own. The single comfort he had, the single thread that kept him from completely breaking apart, was the fact that his companions occasionally commented about having deja-vus. He clung to that fact like it was a lifeline, his salvation, and the fear of losing that single thread caused him to put distance between him and the others.   
  
And the worst part about it was that everyone noticed the change. Eleven could feel their worried stares burning his back and sometimes, their hushed whispers reached his own ears; which was why Eleven wasn't really surprised when Erik approached him during a training session in the Manglegrove Whale Way Station, sporting a stubborn expression that grew more hesitant the closer he got.   
  
“I... You know I'm not good at this kind of stuff,” Erik admitted quietly, a frown creasing his brows as he tried to think how to continue. “But... You have been quiet lately – well, quieter, and...”  
  
Eleven's face was carefully neutral as he waited for Erik to continue. The thief scowled at the ground, one hand rubbing the back of his neck – a nervous habit of his. In the distance, Jade let out a battle cry, followed by the sound of crackling lightning and Eleven couldn't help but wonder if the others had planned this intervention.  
  
“It's just that...” Eleven's attention snapped back to Erik, whose expression kept flickering between confusion and hesitation. “You can tell me, us if something is bothering you, okay?” his eyes flew back to the muddy ground as he added, “I'm here for you – I m-mean, we all are.”  
  
Eleven took a brief moment to admire the way Erik's ears were reddening before he replied with a small, brittle smile. “Of course I know that.”  
  
Sunlight caught Erik's golden earrings as he raised his head and Eleven barely resisted flinching. Even after so many months, the sight of gold was still unsettling. “Thank you for telling me though, I know you don't feel comfortable with this type of conversation.”  
  
A huff of laughter escaped from Erik's mouth. “Well, getting out of my comfort zone once in a while isn't that bad – besides...” he swallowed, “...you're, uh, worth it.”  
  
He wasn't, was the first thought that popped in Eleven's head. His smile became strained. “Thank you,” he said before gesturing towards the sound of fighting. “We should probably go back to the others.” he kept his gaze stubbornly towards the horizon in a desperate effort to avoid seeing the expression on Erik's face.  
  
“Yeah, you're right,” Erik sighed. The tinge of defeat in his tone made Eleven's jaw tense. It was for the better, he reminded himself as they started walking, surrounded by an awkward silence. He needed more time, more answers.  
  
It had nothing to do with the fact that he was afraid of the possibility that the Eleven this Erik loved was a different man. After all, that Eleven had made a different choice. Who knew what else that Eleven had done differently? Who knew if he and that Eleven were essentially different men?  
  
Who knew what Erik would do if he found out that Eleven had pretty much killed and replaced the Eleven he loved?

-

-

-

“Luminary, may I have a word with you?”

Eleven gave Hendrik a nod, eyes still looking at the road ahead of them. The ample amount of trees in the Puerto Valor region gave many chances for ambushes– something he had learned from experience back in the world of Ruin.

“I am aware that I am still quite new to this group and that I don't know you as well as the others,” the knight admitted. His soft, almost melancholic tone made Eleven's eyes to flicker briefly towards him. “But despite that, my oath to be your shield and companion is something I hold dear to my heart and should you ever need someone to share the burden on your shoulders, know that I will gladly do so.”

“Thank you, Hendrik, your words mean a lot to me,” Eleven replied, hoping that the other could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I'm glad to hear that. I-” Hendrik paused, grief crossing over his expression like a flickering shadow. “I merely wanted to communicate that clearly. To learn from past mistakes.”

Breath hitching, images of Jasper from both times flashed in Eleven's mind. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the guilt forming in his throat. “I understand,” he murmured, self-loathing prickling his innards because his friend was grieving next to him, mourning for a friend whose death still haunted his dreams, and he was unable to offer any comfort.

Hendrik nodded jerkily and a silence fell between them as they trailed after the others, both lost in their own thoughts.

-

-

-

Eleven was in the middle of forging when a cough snapped him out of his thoughts. He raised his head, hammer mid-swing to meet Jade's stern gaze. “Is something the matter?” he asked as he lowered his hammer and straightened his posture. His back protested slightly as he had been hunched over the forge without any breaks for several hours.

Jade eyed the forge with something that looked like disdain. “For me? No, nothing is wrong,” her gaze darted to Eleven's face and uncertainty crossed over her features. “But I... I could ask you the same question – you have been using that forge quite a lot lately.”

Eleven shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “We have found a lot of new recipes.”

Jade didn't look convinced so Eleven tried to change his tactic. Jade was a practical woman, who had spent most of her life on the road, training, fighting and surviving – she was fully aware of the risks they were facing. “I'm okay, Jade,” he assured as he gestured at the forge. “Better to be prepared than not, right?”

“That is true,” Jade admitted. “But please, take some breaks every once in a while, okay?”

Eleven couldn't but smile. “I will.” he nodded, earning a smile that still didn't reach Jade's eyes. She gave him one last clap on the back before leaving to join Serena and Sylv by the campfire. 

Eleven turned his attention back to the forge. Several minutes later, mist rose from the forge, sizzling angrily before revealing a brand new Timeshear, reworked to perfection. Eleven picked it up and inspected it with calculating eyes. No cracks or other imperfections. Perfectly balanced with a good grip. He brought his index finger to the blade, barely touching it before it cut open his fingertip.

Perfect, Eleven thought as he quickly cast Heal to stop the blood from dirtying the knife. Now all he had to do was to find a way to give it to Erik without too much interaction.

The thought of that brought a pang of guilt. Eleven knew that Erik knew that he was avoiding him and that the thief was confused and hurt by it – and who could blame him?

Eleven pocketed the knife. He just needed little more time to... do stuff, he decided. To heal, to get rid of the ugly feelings inside of him. To make sure they all survived Calasmos.

Speaking of which... Eleven opened his recipe journal and flipped the pages – he had found a new recipe for a spear that would be an asset to Jade-

Eleven's fingers came to a halt. He stared blankly at the open page and the words _'greatsword recipes'_ glared back at him almost accusingly. His own weapon laid across the campsite, its handle well-worn and blade full of cracks. Perhaps he should consider an upgrade as well, Eleven thought, biting his lip.

No. Not yet. he shook his head and found the page for the spear recipes. The others came first – they hadn't experienced the world after the Fall, they were still too soft too fragile, and Eleven has been worrying them with his behavior. It's the least he can do to atone. 

-

-

-

Truth to be told, Hotto was probably one of Eleven's least favorite places. It hadn't always been like that – once, he had gaped at the village with a sense of wonder and excitement. Heliodor had been grand and overwhelming but Hotto was the first town he ever visited that was truly different from everything he had ever known. The unique architecture, the local customs, and the grand forge had made him forget about the Heliodor army chasing after him and Erik.   
  
But then the Fall had happened and even now, in a world where Ryu was alive and well, Eleven looked at the celebrating citizens and thought that under different circumstances, these people would have accepted human sacrifices only because their leader said so.  
  
To say his opinion on the town had soured would be an understatement.  
  
However, Ryu was innocent to all that and Eleven was glad to see him back in the town, laughing and chatting and blissfully unaware of the horrid fate that had once befallen to him and his mother.  
  
Miko was a completely different matter. Once, Eleven had sympathized with her, but that had gone down the drain the moment they realized that she would willingly sacrifice another person, another mother, to keep her secret safe. Now, Eleven avoided making eye contact with her in fear of the words he could blurt out.  
  
So when the people of Hotto wanted them to stay the remaining day and night there to show their gratitude, Eleven wasn't terribly excited, unlike the others who were more than willing to accept the offer.   
  
Hendrik headed to the forges, muttering something about the weaponry. Veronica dashed towards the direction of the bar, a gleeful glint in her eyes and mouth ready to give a certain bartender a headache. The rest went to the bathhouse, chattering excitedly about the sauna and hot springs while Eleven stayed in his inn room to nap.  
  
Or well, he tried to nap; sleep had started to elude him again ever since Serena told him about Michelle. Instead, Eleven stared at the ceiling, bored out of his mind but unwilling to go outside in case the villagers wanted to talk to him, thank him for bringing Ryu back to them with innocent smiles like they hadn't said to Atsuo's face that killing her mother was for the greater good-  
  
The door opened with a loud creak. Eleven's head snapped towards the entrance just in time to see Rab step in, holding a tray with a teacup on it. “Och, ye were awake, laddie!” he exclaimed once their eyes met. “Here's a wee pick-me-up.” he placed the tray on the small side-table by the bed.  
  
“Thank you,” Eleven said as he picked up the cup. The scent of lemon filled the air, comforting and fragrant and he brought the cup to his lips. The tea was sweet, with a hint of bitterness in it. Just the kind of tea he enjoyed immensely.   
  
“Ye know laddie,” Rab hummed after a brief silence. He was smiling fondly, but his eyes were somber. It was the expression Rab often wore when he thought about the happier days of his past. “Whenever Eleanor was upset, she would try to hide it behind a smile. Had trouble to relying on other people – said she didnae want to trouble anybody with her problems.”  
  
Eleven took another sip, tilting his head to show that he was listening. Rab continued, lost in the memory. “And whenever I saw that she was upset, I would make her a nice cup of tea and offered to listen to her troubles, no matter how meaningless they seemed. Sometimes she told me, sometimes she didnae.” Rab turned to look at Eleven, still smiling, still melancholic. “Ye aren't yer mother, and perhaps I'm doing this wrong, but I'm an auld fool stuck to the auld habits and I cannae think of other ways to let ye know that ye have people who will listen to any troubles ye have.”  
  
Eleven opened his mouth but no words came out. He emptied the cup even though the tea was a tad too hot for his tongue “I don't know what to say,” he admitted. “Thank you. Truly.”  
  
“Yer welcome, laddie,” Rab replied, some of the somberness fading away. Eleven tried to smile back but the knowledge that he couldn't, wouldn't accept that offer left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the tea.

-

-

-

As soon as they were on board the Salty Stallion again, ready to leave the Strand, Eleven made beeline for his room, found a bucket and emptied the contents of his stomach into it.

Thank Goddess the whole ordeal hadn't taken long, Eleven thought, panting as he took a step backward from the bucket. His stomach churned, still unsettled as the ball of anxiety, self-loathing and confusion started unraveling in his mind and fell over his shoulders like a second skin.

Every cabin held a small basin full of water and Eleven dumped the water into the bucket. He opened the door and peeked outside. Fortunately, the corridor was empty and he hastily made his way to the rear end of the ship. Once he was outside, the sun greeted him with its harsh rays of light, making black spots appear in Eleven's vision.

With one final glance at his surroundings, Eleven tossed the contents of the bucket overboard and watched them mix with the dark seawater. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the soft melody of a harp floating in the air. The song was familiar, a tranquil lullaby Serena often played whenever she could.

Next, he should head to the kitchen to clean the bucket to get rid of the last remains of this horrendous day. Nodding to himself, Eleven turned around and headed back inside, passing the cabins and the captain's quarter. He climbed the stairs to the upper lever and went through several corridors before finally reaching his destination.

Except the kitchen wasn't empty.

“Oh!” Sylvando exclaimed, eyebrows arched with surprise when their eyes met. The Luminary eyed the open bottle of wine on the counter and the half-full wine glass in the entertainer's hands.

Sylvando seemed to notice Eleven's puzzled look. “Just a small treat for myself after today's event,” he explained, making the wine swirl in his glass. The corners of his lips were curled upwards into a stiff smile as he gazed at the crimson liquid. Eleven gave him a nod of understanding before approaching the water basin and filling the bucket with water and soap.

Eleven noticed Sylvando watching his movements curiously. “It's dirty,” he explained before resuming to scrubbing the bucket.

Sylvando made a noise at the back of his throat and a comfortable silence fell over them. It was often like that with Sylvando who, despite his flamboyant behavior, was surprisingly fine with long periods of silence – at least when it came to Eleven, something that he was eternally grateful for. 

Sylvando leaned against the counter and let out a long sigh, his whole body sagging forward. “Today's been a _day_ , don't you agree, darling?”

“Can't argue with that,” Eleven admitted quietly. He could feel Sylvando's scrutinizing gaze on him, burning his temple and felt himself tensing under it. Underneath his boisterous personality and wicked grins, Sylvando was as sharp as a blade and had spent many years in the spotlight, performing and entertaining people. If anyone could see through Eleven's own pathetic act of normalcy, it would be Sylvando.

“Say, honey,” Sylvando started. His abnormally soft tone alone was enough to make Eleven mentally brace himself. “You seemed... well, your fighting seemed just a tad more ruthless than normally.”

Biting his lip, Eleven thought back to the events at the Strand and the monsters that had surrounded Michelle and Kai. It had been a one-man slaughter, one he couldn't even recall properly due to the blind fury. “I was just...” he trailed off meekly. The others had been impressed, thinking it had been the fruit of all the training instead of a mindless massacre.

Sylvando's gaze softened with understanding. “I know,” he stated, taking a sip of his wine. “But I've noticed that your style has been... different for a while now – not that there's anything wrong in that – but it reminded me of something my Papí used to tell me. That you can learn everything about a knight just by seeing how they handle their sword.”

Eleven's gaze slid to Sylvando. The entertainer was staring right back at him, eyes serious and the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a sad little smile. “If you ever need something to get off your chest,” he stated, finger tracing the rim of his glass. “We're always here to support you, darling.”

“I know that Sylv,” Eleven replied. The entertainer regarded him with one last look before leaving the kitchen, his steps heavier than usual.

Staring at the drying bucket on his lap, Eleven tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. He didn't deserve this kindness, this love his friends were showering him with.

In his mind, he wondered how easy it would be to just _Zoom_ out of the ship and continue alone.

-

-

-

They were on their way to Phnom Nonh when Serena approached him with her hands clasped together over her chest. “Hey, Eleven?” she started, her usually airy expression replaced by a worried frown.

“Yes?”

“You're not using _Snooze_ to sleep anymore, right?”

Eleven almost stumbled. His jaw tensed and pulse quickened as he gave the healer a wide-eyed look. “No,” he lied, gaze drifting from Serena's concerned eyes to the mountains behind her shoulder. He cleared his throat, stomach in knots, “I haven't needed it for a while now.”

Serena's expression brightened with relief and the tension melted away from her shoulders. “Thank goodness!” she beamed. “That's good to hear.”

Eleven swallowed, stomach lurching as he gave Serena a brittle smile. He hoped it didn't look as pained as he felt.

_Liar,_ a voice in his head whispered. _Liar, liar, liar..._

-

-

-

When Veronica blocked Eleven's way to one of the Gondolian back alleys, he wasn't surprised. Shocked to see that it had taken the impatient girl this long to corner him, but not surprised to see it finally happen.

Veronica's stance was wide, her hands were on her hips and the glare she gave to him could have made a lesser man cower with fear. Eleven merely raised his eyebrows, preparing himself for the tongue lashing he was likely to get.

Veronica did not disappoint. “What. Are. You. Doing?” she hissed with a voice full of venom.

Eleven kept his expression neutral. “Sightseeing?” he offered, fully aware that he was poking at a monster nest. Weariness settled over his bones like an old friend – he was just so tired of this, of these little moments where he felt as if his friends were trying to flay him open with their concerned words, tearing him apart piece by piece and leaving behind only bitterness and anger.

As expected, Veronica's glare became more furious and her fingertips seemed to crackle with barely contained magic. “That's not what I meant, you dumpy dollop!” she yelled, “Your demeanor! All the avoiding! What in the name of Drustan's bloody dick is wrong with you!”

Eleven, gaze not quite meeting with Veronica's, saw a woman gasp behind the mage, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as she witnessed what seemed to be a child using such foul language. Eleven tried to send the woman an exasperated smile when suddenly, a sharp kick to his shins brought his attention back to red-faced Veronica.

“YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW!” She screeched, voice so high-pitched it hurt Eleven's ears. Sparks of fire erupted from her fingertips, similar to a dragon's fiery breath. “Stop doing it! Don't you see how hurtful it is? You're hurting Erik! You're hurting _me_ -”

Veronica's mouth closed with an audible click, chest heaving and white blotches on her red face. “You're hurting everyone.” she corrected through gritted teeth, eyes on the ground but even in the dim light of the back alley, she couldn't completely hide the pain that flickered over her face. “Stop it.”

Veronica ran past him, back to the busy main street. Eleven watched her retreating back, face void of any expressions. He stepped into the small back alley, descended the stairs to the lower street. Made his way to the alleys under the stage of the Signor Universo contest and searched for the most remote spot he could find.

Eleven sat on a barrel and all of a sudden, it all crashed down. He lurched forward, hands gripping his chest, hair hiding his pale face as he gasped for breath. “I'm sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Goddess I'm so sorry-”

Only silence greeted his begs for forgiveness. Ice prickled Eleven's skin like countless small needles. His fingers itched to scratch the feeling away, until he was numb to pain, to the cold, to everything but he didn't deserve that, didn't deserve the relief it brought-

Eleven jerked his head backward, banging it on the rock wall and momentarily blinding him. Eleven blinked rapidly, both from the pain and to keep the wetness in his eyes in check.

Every word out of Veronica's mouth had been true – the ugly truth he had refused to accept and by Goddess, how it stung to be forced to look at it. But what else could he do but avoid, when he was so afraid of the jealousy and hate festering in his heart and what they could do?

Eleven knew. He knew that the walls he had built around him were too high to climb and too thick to break through. And he knew that Erik and Veronica suffered the most, as he avoided them like the plague, like he had abandoned them.

However, he didn't know what else to do. What else could he do when every glance at Erik made him question everything – the man this Erik loved had chosen differently, had lied to Michelle, and Yggdrasil knows what other choices the past-Eleven had done, who was to tell him if they even were the same person?

Eleven's whole body convulsed. What else could he do but avoid Veronica, when he was terrified, so completely terror-stricken by the thought that he would grow to resent her one day? She had been the catalyst, the first domino piece to fall, the reason why they sought out the Tower of Lost Time and Eleven dreaded that day when he could gaze at her face and feel only bitter hate.

If that ever happened, Eleven thought as he inhaled shakily. That would be the day he truly became the darkspawn.

And he would rather die than let that happen.

-

-

-

The rivers of time were strong, bountiful and yet, not infinite and no matter how long Eleven walked on his isolated path, there was always going to be a destination, an end to it all.  
  
But Goddess, what he would give to travel back in time one last time to stop himself from ruining everything.  
  
Not that he deserved it.  
  
He only had himself to blame.

-

-

-

They were crossing the Gallopolis region when suddenly, a horde of monsters ambushed them in the cavern near the Pernicious Peninsula. 

“Ready your weapons!” Hendrik yelled as he drew his axe and shield just in time to clobber the first monster trying to attack him.

After that, it was pure chaos. The cavern didn't allow much space to fight and Eleven tried to lure a handful of the monsters outside. A good amount of them followed, perhaps somehow sensing that he was the Luminary, and once the blazing Gallopolis sun touched his back, Eleven drew his greatsword. The first monster, which had flown towards him, was slain easily. The next three ones met their doom when Eleven cast Boom. 

A sudden roar at his right drew Eleven's attention. One of the monsters crumbled to the sand, revealing Erik behind it. Their eyes met for a moment and the hurt and confusion in Erik's gaze stung more than any physical blow.

One of the monsters charged towards Erik. The thief dodged it easily by jumping forward, landing right next to Eleven. The monsters circled them and the next few moments passed in a blur. Eleven attacked, defended and cast few spells while Erik slashed, dodged and taunted their enemies. They worked in perfect harmony, so used to each other's fighting style that it came as easily as breathing and eventually, they were fighting the last monster, which was naturally the strongest, and meanest, of the bunch.

Erik was distracting the monster and Eleven readied his sword to attack it from behind. He charged forward, mouth open for a soundless yell and he ran nearer and nearer until-

The monster turned to face him. “Eleven!” Erik shouted with a voice full of panic as the Luminary dug his heels into the sand. He stumbled, leaning on his greatsword to catch himself from falling to the ground. An odd feeling fell over him, making him shiver. 

Eleven stood up, raised his head and suddenly, he was no longer in Gallopolis.

Instead, he stood in the entrance of The Grove of Repose. He smelled the crisp scent of the mountain wind and the sweet wildflowers. He heard the birds chirp in the distance. Rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves ethereally and speckles of dust danced around the light like small fairies.

And there, in the center of it all, was Veronica. She rested against a grand tree with a serene smile on her – an unfitting expression for such a fierce girl – and basked in the sunlight like a centuries-old treasure in the depths of an ancient forest. She was still. Frozen.

No, Eleven thought. Not frozen.

Dead

At that moment, Eleven forgot.

He forgot the fight. He forgot every single spell and ability he knew. He forgot how to properly hold his greatsword – because none of those things mattered if she was dead-

He forgot the usual battle formation. The birds chirped louder, sounding like screams as he started running towards Veronica.

Nothing mattered if he failed her again. If he failed the whole world again.

Eleven extended his hand, ready to yell the name on his tongue and-

Something stung his stomach.

Eleven blinked once. Twice. His gaze slid downward. He blinked again. Steel glinted under the bright sun. A gloved hand grasped the handle of the blade. Crimson was blossoming over his own purple jacket like an awakening flower.

_Ah_ , Eleven thought with a grimace. Looks like Serena was going to spend another sleepless night treating him. 

She always did that, even if the injury was fully healed. 

But who could blame her, after Veronica's death?

A shadow fell over Eleven. A monster _,_ he realized. His greatsword was on the ground – how did it end up there? – and with no other choices, he quickly pried the fingers off the blade handle. They let go of the handle easily. 

Good, Eleven thought as he pulled the blade, a familiar-looking knife, out of his side with one swift move. The wound burned but its protests were quickly ignored as Eleven slapped his free hand over the wound and cast Heal. He twirled around, knife in one hand and other mending the innermost damage and faced the enemy. The monster was looming over him, its breath hot against Eleven's skin.

Eleven stared back with bored eyes. He cast another Heal. Another thin layer of the damaged fixed. It wasn't much, Heal was meant for scrapes and aches, but it was better than nothing. The hand casting the spell was sticky yet slippery, making it a struggle to keep his hand still.

Great, he thought, he had just gotten rid of old blood from the jacket a few days ago. On their way back to Arboria, they had been ambushed by a group of enemies. One of them had managed to sink its teeth into Eleven's thigh, hitting a major vein. Thanks to his mistake, they hadn't been able to travel for half a day. The next day, they had passed a destroyed village, ransacked by a horde of monsters. Only two survivors among the piles of corpses.

He cast another Heal. Maybe if he hadn't made such an amateur mistake, they would have saved the village.

The monster lunged forward. Eleven side-stepped. Cast another Heal and plunged the blade into the monster's neck. The beast howled as Eleven pulled the weapon out and stabbed it again with precise movements. 

The monster fell on top of a patch of small wildflowers. Another win, Eleven thought as he gazed at the monster with emotionless eyes. He cast another Heal. It was a struggle to keep his hand over the wound. Another day survived.

The monster carcass crumbled to ash. Dark smoke began to rise above it, towards the blue sky. To have such darkness exist within the Grove felt like a sin and Eleven turned his back on the corpse.

The ashes left with the wind and the Grove vanished, its green glory slowly replaced by sand that glittered like fragments of gold. The azure sky faded into something bleaker, something less alive and the chilly wind gave away to blistering heat.

Lastly, Veronica's lifeless form dissolved and all Eleven could see were blurred splotches green, blue and white. He tilted his head, blinking as his vision cleared. A green tunic, dusty from the sand. Blue, spiky hair that he knew to be softer than it looked. Ghostly white skin, few shades paler than usual.

Two pairs of blue eyes met and the horror-stricken expression on Erik's face was forever burned into Eleven's mind. The thief's breaths were quick, shallow as his fearful eyes darted from Eleven's face to his wounded side and lastly, to his own hand with red fingertips.

A small, high-pitched whimper escaped from Erik's mouth. “I...” he closed his hand and took a shuddering breath as his whole body trembled. “I didn't... m-mean t-to-” 

And then Eleven remembered. The stab wound in his stomach. The sharp blade held by a familiar gloved hand.

Eleven's grasp on the bloody knife, the Timeshear, loosened. It slipped between his fingers and fell to the ground soundlessly. Erik let out a distressed sob. Eleven's knees gave out. Distantly, he could hear the panicked yells of the rest of their team as they rushed towards them. His vision blurred, getting darker around the edges.

“Forgive me.” Eleven managed to choke out around the blood in his mouth before collapsing to the ground.

The last two things in his mind were the vision of horror-stricken Erik with bloodied gloves and the realization of how badly he had fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Kids aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy blares in the distance*
> 
> Told you it was going to be mean. Next time, we'll keep rubbing more salt into Eleven's stab wound but that should be the worst of it, things will get better for the lads after that. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, leave a comment or kudos if you want to!


End file.
